Nice to meet you
by MGtwins
Summary: What happens when a NSA agent and a russian spy are sent to the same mission? This is my take on how Clint and Natasha first met.
1. The agent

**Ok! First of all, this is my first fanfic about this pair so be gentle guys! Second, I'm from Brazil, therefore my native language is not English so you'll have to bear with me! And third, I'm not familiar with Hawkeye's and Black Widow's backstories so I'm basically making stuff up! I hope you enjoy it! Here we go:**

Chapter 1:

Sweat was dripping from his face. Standing in front of a bomb about to explode wasn't exactly the definition of a comfortable situation. But he was used to uncomfortable situations. In fact, he liked them. That was why he did what he did. The idea of imminent death didn't scare him. The idea of death at all never had much effect on him and maybe, for that reason, he was the only one still in the building after he and his team received orders to abort the mission. He hated aborted missions. He was paid to accomplish them, not to abort them. So, there he was, staring at the little device that could end his life in less than two minutes.

For any other NSA agent, facing a time bomb without any sort of protection was a last resource; an extreme measure taken only when everything else had failed. For Clint Barton, however, it was an opportunity to have some fun. In the Agency, they were taught how to disarm all types of explosives and that particular one he knew very well but it was also the complicated type.

The top agents were able to deactivate it in three minutes and if Barton was one of the top agents, he would be dead by now. But he wasn't. He was better than the top agents; he was more prepared, more skilled, more deadly and, of course, faster. He had managed to defuse that kind of bomb in one minute and forty five seconds once, nearly breaking the record still held by a crazy Italian guy who did it in 1:39s. The bomb was still ticking and he had to be fast. The fastest this time around if he wanted to be alive by the end of the day. He was about to give the Italian a run for his money.

- One minute and thirty two seconds? Come on, man! Are you serious?

- No way had you just beaten Rizzo!

- You're so full of shit!

Clint Barton was now back to the NSA headquarters and being interrogated by the members of his team all at once.

- Hol' up, hol' up! Let Barton talk! said Ryan, one of the agents in the team and Clint's best friend.

- I had exactly one minute and thirty five seconds to defuse the bomb so if I hadn't done it in less than that I probably wouldn't be here right now. Besides, I hate aborted missions.

If anybody else had just claimed they had defused a T-47 bomb in one minute and thirty two seconds, the four men standing in the room would've laughed their asses off and call them a big fat liar. But that person just happened to be Clint Barton who, in everybody's eyes, was the closest to a superhero the Agency had ever had.

- I don't know if I ever told you that but you're fucking crazy! You knew that, right? But you're also my hero!

Barton couldn't help but smile a little at that comment as he was being congratulated by the others

- I wanna be just like you when I grow up, Barton! said Torres before heading off to the gym following the rest of the men.

Now that the congratulation session was over the room had been left empty except for Barton himself and Ryan. After a long while without a word from any of them, Ryan decided to break the silence:

- You could've gotten yourself killed.

Clint, who was organizing some papers for the debriefing about his latest mission, just looked up at him:

- I always can get myself killed. That's what we do.

- You know what I meant. said the other agent with a lower tone.

And Barton knew exactly what he meant. Of course, every agent had to put their lives in risk one occasion or the other; when the time really called for it. That was part of the job. Clint Barton, however, was doing it on a daily basis, sometimes just for fun. He couldn't help it though. That was him. Married to the job. Ready to do whatever it took to complete the mission he had been assigned to.

- I prevented a pretty ugly explosion back there, did you know that?

- There was nobody around in at least one mile radius from the location of the bomb! Our men managed to evacuate everybody in time which you probably already knew. Ryan raised his voice as he continued:

- You only did it for the thrill! For a stupid record! That's what you always do! You put yourself in these impossible situations only to get out of them so you can prove just how good you are! You don't care about anything but yourself and the mission!

Barton was just listening at this point. He couldn't say anything against his friend's accusations because they were all true. Finally, before stepping out of the room for good, Ryan said with a calmer voice:

- You know, I just hope one day you can find a better reason to live for.

The agent violently shut the door behind him and left Clint staring at the floor.

**This first chapter is short only to see if I have positive reactions from you guys. The whole story is already planned out so if you want me to continue, please review! Tchau!**


	2. The apartment

**Hello again! I'm gonna try to make this one longer but I can't promise anything! Someone mentioned something about the dialogue and it took me a while to figure out what the problem was. I'll do it differently this time and then you let me know what you think! Ok, here we go:**

Chapter 2:

"Bull's-eye." Clint thought as the arrow hit the heart of his target: a human figure painted on one of gym's walls. At this hour, as usual, Barton was the only one still in the Agency HQ. He liked training alone and at 2:30 am he would have the place all for himself.

He liked working out. In his line of work, staying in good shape was an obligation. Boxing was a great stress relief too. Whenever he felt irritated by anything at all, he would find very helpful to let it out on a punch bag. But the main reason, the one that took him almost every night to the gym, was an old bow and a couple of arrows nobody else used. Clint had learned a bit of archery in his training days just like every other agent but, since those skills didn't have much use for an NSA operative, they were left behind. Barton, however, developed a true passion for the sport and decided to dedicate his free time to improve his abilities. So, every night, he would go to the training center to practice his shooting skills. He has become incredibly good at it and he couldn't help but secretly hope that one day he could use his archery skills on a mission or something.

"Still here, huh?" Miguel, the janitor, asked approaching the other man with a mop in his hands. He was a Mexican guy in his early 60s who had been working in the agency for over thirty years. In those years, Miguel had come to know almost every agent in the building and Clint stood out among the others. The Mexican had a lot of respect for him, mainly because of his dedication to the job. Barton was always the first one in and the last one out and even though being driven was a great quality for an agent, the boy could use some fun at times.

"Couldn't think of a better place to be." Clint answered as he was getting ready to release another arrow.

"Home is a better place!" Miguel exclaimed.

Again, the arrow met the center of the target leaving the older man amazed.

"You have a good eye. Like a hawk."

Barton looked at Miguel but said nothing about the other man's comment and carried on. The janitor, however, wasn't willing to give the agent a rest.

"Why don't you go home, huh? Bet you still can have some quality time with your special lady."

"No special lady here, amigo." Clint said as he walked to the target to remove the arrow from it. Miguel was used to see Barton alone at the gym every night so he wasn't really shocked to learn that the agent didn't have anybody to go home to.

"You gotta find yourself a woman then. A man can't live without love."

"I've been doing just fine so far." Clint simply stated.

"Yeah, but don't you wanna do great? You know, I've been watching you. You're always working, don't have many friends, rarely even speak to someone… You think you're young and all… think you have plenty of time but you know what? It's later than you think." Miguel paused for a second to see if he really had the other man's attention and continued:

"Being at the top of your game here in the NSA must feel great, really. But when you're old and can't do it anymore what is there? You gotta find a better reason to live for, boy. Trust me."

After his last sentence, Miguel walked out of the training room and left Clint staring at the target now with a hole in its chest. It was the second time today he had heard those words and that really annoyed him. Why, out of the blue, everybody decided to meddle in his life? Suddenly he was not in the mood for his archery training and going home didn't seem like a bad idea anymore.

His apartment was nothing special. Not too big, not too small; very neat and clean. Nothing out of place. It was easy to keep things untouched since he rarely was there. Every time he got through the door he couldn't help but think that wasn't really his home; it felt like the place belonged to someone else. He wasn't used to spend his nights over there. Normally, he would stay at the agency and crash on a couch after his workout. But that night, Clint didn't feel like staying in the NSA HQ, especially not after his conversation with Miguel. Barton's thoughts were still rushing about the things the janitor had said. Who the hell did the guy think he was to be saying all that crap about him? He barely even knew him. And what about that whole "special lady" bullshit? Miguel didn't know, for instance, that Clint Barton simply had no time for love. He had been in relationships before but all of them had ended miserably mainly because of his job. The girls Clint had been with were all understanding in the beginning but as time went on and his job started to get in the way- because his job always got in the way- they would leave. Barton couldn't really blame them though. They all wanted something more, something he could not give them. The truth of the matter was that he just couldn't afford being in love. He didn't even know if he had ever been in love. Probably not. It was easier like that. He was an agent, who was ready to die for his country, doing what he thought was right and being in love would just complicate everything. But, if he were ever to fall in love, Clint knew exactly what she had to be like. For starters, he always had a thing for redheads and…

Barton was dragged from his thoughts back to reality by the sound of the phone. He rushed to pick it up. At that hour, it could only be one person:

"Hello?"

"Barton? I'm sorry for calling that late but I need to speak with you urgently."

"Is everything ok, sir?" Clint asked apprehensively.

"Yes. Tomorrow morning I need you to go to my office. It's about a mission. A very big one."

"I'll be there, sir."

"I'll give you the details then. See you tomorrow." The voice hung up.

His boss rarely would wake him up in the middle of the night calling for a last minute meeting so the mission had to be huge. Clint then decided that he would be pretty busy next day so the best thing he could possibly do was trying to get some sleep. Love would have to wait as he was embarking in a dreamless night.

**Ok! It didn't get that much longer but I decided that ended at this point would be best. In the next chapter we finally get to see Natasha! Hope you had enjoyed it! As usual: Please review! Até a próxima!**


	3. The mission

**Hello everyone! As promised, finally Natasha steps into the scene. Hope you like it:**

Chapter 3:

7:00am. The alarm goes off three times before Clint finally shuts it down. He had been awake for over an hour though. He always had shitty nights before important meetings. He had woken at 5:26 convinced he was already late. After that, he hadn't been able to go back to sleep. What could that big mission be all about? Last night his boss sounded a little agitated on the phone or maybe it was just his imagination. Either way, Barton was about to find out in a couple of hours.

Making the bed, taking a shower and getting dressed would normally take him less than 30 minutes and that day was no exception. In the kitchen, the agent prepared his breakfast: two fried eggs, a toast and a glass of orange juice. Clint was a truly Spartan when it came to food- six small meals a day. He finished his toast quietly and headed to the door. Before leaving, he glanced at the living room one more time: that place could really use a woman's touch.

* * *

"I just don't think he's ready yet, ok. I think he…"

"With all due respect General Sullivan…" the voice on the other side cuts him off " your opinion about whether he's ready or not doesn't concern me."

" He is one of my best agents, godamn it!." General Sullivan, head of the NSA, explodes.

" And I'm aware of that, General. But, as you know, the SHIELD only gets interested in the best."

" So what is the play, exactly?" Sullivan asks raising his tone as he continues " steal one of my best men and then force him to work for you?"

"Not at all." the voice states in a calm tone. "My Agency has no intention in stealing your agents, let alone, force them to do anything."

" So what's SHIELD's intentions with Barton then?" Sullivan asks still a little irritated.

" For now, agent Barton is just…an option. We have to test him first."

"Test him?" The director of the NSA can't hide his sarcasm:

"Don't tell me you wanna put him in a white room with a pencil and a questionary full of psychological and ethics crap!"

" General Sullivan…" the voice says almost laughing " it really surprises me that a man like you still believes that psychology and ethics could possibly mean anything to any test. The SHIELD doesn't care if your guy is mentally well-adjusted or morally righteous! As I said before: my Agency is only interested in the best guys. The ones who save the day, who keep our country safe." the voice continues " so Barton can be a suicidal adrenaline junkie for all I care!"

General Sullivan who was used to give orders and have the last word remained quiet. That voice scared him.

" A mission." the voice speaks again, breaking the silence. "The test is a mission. A real mission with real risks."

The General sighed heavily. There was nothing he could do.

"I will give you every piece of information about it." the voice states and before hanging up says " and Sullivan, I hope you're wrong about him not being ready."

James Alexander Sullivan falls into the chair. What did this SHIELD want with his best agent and what the hell was this mission about? His mental questions were however interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sir? Agent Barton is here to see you." Sullivan's PA announces.

"Let him in." the general says.

Two seconds later, it's Clint who is knocking.

" General?" the agent is standing at the door.

"Come in." Sullivan allows.

"Sir, I believe you wanted to talk to me urgently. Last night you sounded a little…agitated. Or maybe I just misinterpreted."

"You have a mission." Sullivan simply said without minding the other man's embarrassment. He continued:

"Call Ryan, Williams and Castro. They're going with you. Meet me at the briefing room in 30 minutes."

* * *

The briefing room was basically consisted by a rounded table, eight chairs around it and a white screen connected to a large computer. That was the room where the missions were normally presented to the agents. Clint liked that place because, well, he liked missions. As usual, he was the first one in. He settled himself in one of the chairs and waited for the others. Ryan came next, followed by Williams and Castro. After five more minutes, Sullivan finally entered the room and turned off the lights. The image of a man in his 70s popped up on the screen.

"Jonathan Harris." The general began. "Founder and CEO of one of the biggest and most powerful weaponry industries in the world. He became well known and respected in the business in the 60s when he developed, in a partnership with German engineer Alberich Eichelberger, the technology behind the guided missiles."

The image had been replaced. Now the screen was showing a man with a pair of sad blue eyes covered by enormous glasses. He didn't look like a physicist, Clint thought, without really knowing what a physicist should look like.

"About two years ago, however, Harris industries started to present inconsistent higher profits. The government then started to suspect that something was up. We believe that Harris has been selling his technology also in the black market. There hasn't been anything concrete that could be used as proof to frame Harris so far."

Sullivan stopped to see if his men were keeping up before continuing:

"Well, until now. The Intel has information about Harris' desires in buying uranium for his next big thing. The amount he intends to buy, though, looks suspicious enough. If we get to intercept the purchase, we could easily frame him as a suspect of manufacturing non-authorized nuclear weapons."

The General hesitated.

"Problem is we don't know who the seller is. Intel doesn't know anything about him. The only information we do have is that Harris and our mysterious guy have been talking on the phone but never met face to face. In one of those conversations, the only one the CIA had access to, he referred to himself as Mr. Riley."

"So, what's the plan?" Clint asked curiously.

His boss looked at the three men and explained:

"This weekend, the Clean Technology Conference will take place in Brazil. The event intends to gather the major industrialists in the world to discuss ecological alternatives to the capitalist production system. Jonathan Harris already confirmed his presence. Now, just guess who else is on the list."

"Riley!" all three agents answered in unisson.

"Intel thinks so. The CIA managed to have access to the attendees list and the name of some John S. Riley caught their attention. The Agency believes that Harris is planning on using the Convention as a diversion to meet up with Riley and then buy the uranium."

The room was in complete silence. The men looked at each other before Ryan decided to speak:

"So, this John S. Riley is really our guy? It could be just a coincidence."

"Intel believes it's not just a coincidence, they have a …" Sullivan started only to be interrupted by a very angry Ryan:

"Fuck the Intel! They spend all day sitting on their asses drinking coffee in a highly secured building making assumptions about who's the next bad guy! For all I know, Jonathan Harris didn't do anything wrong yet and John S. Riley is just a nice industrialist who's willing to profit a little less for the planet's sake."

The general didn't have time to reply because Clint did it first:

"This might be our only chance. The NSA has been on this guy's tail for ages. So I'd rather trust the guys from the Intel instead of doing nothing while Harris continues to make a ridiculous amount of illegal money and developing weapons of mass destruction! And for all I know, any industrialist is ever willing to profit less."

Ryan didn't say anything so Sullivan added:

"Barton's right. This can be our only chance. Maybe the Intelligence is wrong. But I really hope they're not because I'm about to send my best four men in a highly risky operation in a foreign country without any guarantee of backup.

The four agents remained in silence for a few moments. Clint decided to break it:

"So, what's the mission?"

* * *

What would John S. Riley wear in a convention? Clint mentally questioned as he looked inside of his closet. The four agents had been dismissed right after their meeting with Sullivan. They were supposed to get ready and pack because they were leaving that afternoon. Barton grabbed a black suit he only wore in special occasions. "This is something Riley would definitely wear!"He said out loud and tossed it in his suitcase.

The mission was simple. Clint was supposed to get into the conference where he would double Riley. Once as Riley, he would meet up with Harris and arrest him. As far as the real Riley was concerned, the NSA would do whatever it took to ensure that he would never get to the convention in the first place. Simple and risky. That was Clint's favorite type of mission. A couple of T-shirts and one more pair of pants and there you go! He zipped up his bag. Tomorrow he would be John S. Riley and in a few more days the NSA would finally have Jonathan Harris.

* * *

"Jonathan Harris? Seriously?" a female voice echoes through a dark room at the back of a small house located in Tokyo's suburb area.

"Why? You're scared? I thought the great Natasha Romanoff wasn't afraid of anything." The man mocks her.

"She isn't." she answers. "But that might cost more money than your boss might have anticipated."

"Don't worry." the man speaks again "you will receive what you judge it is fair. My boss believes you're worth every penny."

"And he can bet on that." the assassin simply states.

The man finally hands her the mission files and Natasha makes her last question:

"So, where am I heading?"

**This one was definitely longer! So what do you guys think so far? I know, I know…I decided to use Brazil because I'm already familiar with the country, its language and so on…I know Natasha only appears in the very end but now she'll be around all the time! The next chapter is already written but I'll hold it until I have more reviews! So please review!It's always a pleasure to hear (in this case to read) from you guys! See ya!**


	4. The encounter

**OK! First I want to thank everybody who reviewed, alerted or favorited this story! It's always nice to know there are people interested in what you're writing, so really, really thank you all for taking the time to read this! It means a lot! Now, let's quit the drama and get down to it:**

Chapter 4:

Costa do Sauípe, Bahia, Brazil.

It had been a long flight. Being more than ten hours stuck on a plane wasn't exactly his idea of a good time but he couldn't say he wasn't used to it. He'd had worse. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been pleasant. Clint had already been to Brazil a couple of times before, but he had never been to Bahia. His last time in the country was two years ago when he was sent to Rio to intercept a meeting between two major drug cartels in South America. The mission had been a total success and he had gained a lot of respect among the other agents. This time, he was back in a different assignment. Looking outside of the cab's window he wished he had more time to actually enjoy the place. For once he wished he was just another tourist on vacation. The tropical scenario was so inviting that it almost made him forget he was there to complete a mission. The General had emphasized how important that particular mission was so he had to stay focused.

The view from his hotel room's window was just mesmerizing. All he could see was the ocean and the bright moon in the clear sky. It was quite a night and he had already made contact with Williams, Ryan and Castro to check on their status. So far so good. The warm breeze on his face made him take a deep breath. Aside from the fact he was about to go on a highly dangerous mission that could potentially kill him, that was paradise. He decided to unpack before taking a quick shower. Clint had taken only the necessary. Since the conference would last three days, there was no reason for a lot of luggage. The shower had been incredibly invigorating so he felt like going for a walk. Harris would only be arriving next day which meant Clint had the night off. That was his first night off in God knows how long and he was about to enjoy it. For that night only Barton decided he would act like any other tourist and make the best out of it; so he would need a drink.

* * *

It was past two and the bar wasn't too crowded anymore. Clint preferred that way actually. There was a guy playing Tom Jobim at the piano and a drunk couple dancing to the sound of it. Barton liked bossa nova so that was going to be a welcome soundtrack for his night off. He walked to the bar and sat down on a stool facing the barman. After a minute or so, the guy finally went up to him and asked:

"E aí? O que você vai querer?"

Clint could speak a little of Portuguese, so he ordered two shots of tequila. As the barman went away to prepare the drinks, the agent couldn't help but notice a brunette at the corner of the bar staring at him. She had long dark hair and golden skin. Her dark eyes were on his as she gave him a big smile. Barton smiled back and decided that she looked beautiful.

"American, right?" the barman asked with a heavy accent, drawing Clint's attention to man in front of him.

"How can you tell?" Clint answered with another question.

"Because only Americans come to Bahia and order tequila instead of trying something more…local."

Barton laughed a little at the other man's comment:

"So, what do you suggest?"

The barman grinned at the agent and told him to wait. Then, he put the tequila shots away and went to prepare a new drink. While he waited for his "local" drink to come, Clint drew his attention back to the brunette at the end of the bar. She was still there, her smile even bigger. That girl was definitely into him and that was his night off after all. Why the hell not? One night stand with a complete stranger- beautiful stranger- in a tropical paradise could be exactly what he needed.

"You're here for the Conference?" Again the barman dragged him from his thoughts with another question. Convincing people that he was Riley was a crucial part of his mission so he straightened himself up before answering:

"Yes. As a matter of fact I am."

The other man didn't seem to care about it much as he handed Barton his new drink:

"Now, try this."

Clint grabbed the cool glass and took a sip of the unfamiliar beverage.

"This's actually pretty good! What do you call it?"

"Caipirinha." The barman simply stated.

The agent finished his caipirinha and quickly ordered another one now fully inclined to find out the name of the hot brunette flirting with him since he got to the bar. Just when he was getting ready to get up and walk over there, Barton was stopped by another question, this time asked by a woman's voice:

"You're not from around here, are you?

* * *

**20 minutes earlier:**

Natasha was at the bar for more than an hour now. She had gotten the first flight from Japan to Brazil. Her new boss was a little impatient so she had to move fast. The conference would officially begin next morning which gave her only a few more hours to find a way to infiltrate the event, locate her target and complete her mission. Every attendee had been given a magnetic access card that allowed them into the convention center. Since Romanoff was flying under the radar, she didn't possess such card; therefore her task at hand was the usual: seduce a lonely guy at the bar who just happened to have a magnetic card inside his pocket.

She had to admit that she was expecting it to be easier though; Natasha was used to get whatever she wanted out of any man she wanted it from. So when she got to the bar, obviously she managed to draw some male attention (that always happened) but every single one of them seemed to more interested in their drinks than in her curvy body. She blamed that stupid wig! The Russian spy was wearing a blonde wig just in case someone in the hotel was familiar with the infamous redhead Black Widow. She was also wearing a tight short black dress and 4 inch-high heels. That was her femme fatale outfit! It had never failed! Well, not until then at least. Time passed and by then, the only remaining people in the place were a very drunk couple probably in their honeymoon, a few guys by the opposite corner, a brunette and another guy with whom the brunette was openly flirting. Just when she was about to give up and go with her plan B option, Natasha heard the barman asking the brunette guy about the conference. That was it! He was the one! The man just happened to be one of the conference attendees so he definitely had a magnetic card in his pocket or maybe back in his room…it didn't matter! She was about to get what she was after. Before making her move, Natasha checked herself at the mirror and reapplied her red lipstick. She could only hope he was a blonde type of guy.

* * *

**Present:**

"So, you're not gonna answer me?" Natasha was now staring at her "prey".

Clint almost spilled his drink as he turned to see who was asking the question. She wasn't just like the pretty girl next door. She was just drop dead gorgeous; the kind of woman who can have any guy eating out the palm of her hand. She had a beautiful curvy body covered (barely) by a very revealing black dress. The red lipstick she got on only made her lips look fuller and the high heels accentuated her already toned fascinating legs. Barton could've easily described her as the personification of his dream girl…if only she was a redhead.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"that was all he could muster.

Natasha laughed a little. That was going to be ridiculously easy.

"I was watching you from across the bar," she lied, "you don't look like you're from around here…"

He cleared his throat:

"You're right, I'm not. I'm here for the Clean Technology Conference." he was trying to play it cool.

"Oh! I heard something about it very vaguely. I'm in Brazil on vacation and…sorry, I'm being rude…I'm Jennifer Brighton. And you are?"

Clint froze for a moment. Instinctively he wanted to say his real name. For some reason he couldn't explain he wanted that girl to know who he really was. But the mission had to come first, right…Right? Right.

"My name is John. John Riley." he said sadly.

Natasha smiled seductively. Clint nodded at her and hated himself for being so easy. But in his defense: she had the most amazing smile he had ever seen. Natasha couldn't leave things at chances so she continued:

"So you're a wealthy industrialist with a consciousness, is that it?"

"Something like that." he said laughing.

"It begins tomorrow, right? The conference, I mean."

"Yeah, yeah. They're gonna have this big opening ceremony tomorrow night and then we'll be pretty busy for the next two days."

"So, this means tonight is your only night off?"

They just stared at each other. Suddenly a familiar song came on. The guy at the piano had just started to play "Girl from Ipanema".

"I love this song!" Natasha practically jumped out of her seat. She raised her hand to him and asked, as sexily as she could:

"Would you dance with me?"

Clint knew exactly where she was going with that. And yes, that was his only night off; the one he intended to enjoy like there was no tomorrow and all that cliché crap. And there she was, probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in his life. If he said yes to her request, he doubted he would be able to control himself to not end up in her bed or with her in his. He was down for a one night stand thing when he first walked into the bar earlier that night but something had changed in him. Suddenly, Barton started to feel the urge to know more about her. About who she was, what she did, about her dreams and hopes and fears…One night stand just wouldn't do it and that could be dangerous. He was there in a mission after all. He couldn't afford to put her in risk. The missions always had to come first he had taught himself that. So, gathering all of his will power he managed to stand up and say:

"I'd love to but I really have to go."

Natasha was surprised to say the least but was able to hide it. She simply nodded and said she understood. He was there to attend a conference not to fool around. Clint could tell she was disappointed though and so was he. What kind of man rejects a girl like that? He cursed himself mentally before saying:

"So I guess I owe you a dance then."

She smiled slightly. She got up as well and raised a hand to him again:

"It was nice to meet you, John."

This time he didn't let her waiting.

"It was nice to meet you too, Jennifer."

They shook hands then he turned and left without looking back. How could he? Natasha was furious. Was he gay or something? No, he wasn't gay she could tell that much…So what was his problem? She was practically handing herself on a silver platter for god's sake and he said no! She wished she could simply shoot him in the head, get his fucking card and get done with it! But that could be a little too noisy and draw some unwanted attention so she had to be patient. She had two days. He was able to resist her that night but there was a reason why she was called Black Widow. She decided then that he would be a nice challenge after all. And she loved challenges.

* * *

He was beyond frustrated. Never in his life had he met a girl like that. Clint was walking aimlessly through the hotel. He wouldn't be able to go to his room and try to get some sleep, at least not yet. He couldn't get the blonde beauty he had just met at the bar out of his mind…if only he had a different life, if only he was normal…Barton used to brag about being a 24/7 agent but for this one time he wished he wasn't. By then he found himself at an area he hadn't been yet in the hotel. He walked a little further only to find a gym by the end of the hall. Clint considered going in and letting out all of his frustrations but after checking his watch, he decided against it. Just as he was getting ready to leave, the agent spotted a bow and some arrows on a shelf at the fitness room. Clint never wanted to shoot one of those so badly…But he couldn't risk it. As far as he knew, John S. Riley was no archer. Maybe some other time.

Barton made his way to his room. Tomorrow his mission would officially begin and he would no longer be Clint Barton. Finally, he decided the best thing he could do was trying to get some sleep. Differently from his usual dreamless nights he had a very busy one with a certain curvy blonde girl popping up uninvited from time to time.

**I don't have much to say about this one! So it is basically the usual: I hope you guys are enjoying it and please review! Bye!**

**PS: I think it was deducible but anyways:**

**E aí? O que você vai querer? ****= So, what are you having?**


	5. The archer

**Olá everyone! So did you guys like their first encounter? From now on I believe the fans of BlackEye are gonna start having some fun! Here we go:**

Chapter 5:

**JFK Airport, New York. 2:00 am**

"_Attention. All passengers for Brazil should proceed to gate 14 immediately."_

"Your ticket please." the woman said.

A man in his early forties took the ticket from his pocket and handed to the woman in front of him. She checked it quickly.

"Thank you, Mr. Riley. Have a nice trip."

The man nodded and gave her a smile. He only managed to take a few steps before being interrupted by a male voice:

"Mr. Riley!"

The man turned to see who that could possibly be.

"NSA," the other man said already showing him his badge "we'd like to have a word with you before you go."

"What's going on?" a very well dressed blonde woman called out approaching the men.

"It's nothing, honey. Everything is okay." Riley answered.

"What do you want with my husband?" the woman asked worriedly.

"You don't have to worry, Mrs. Riley. We just want to… talk to your husband. It won't take long."

* * *

After the bar "incident", Natasha decided that the best decision for her and for everybody else in the hotel was to go back to her room. She was beyond furious and willing to kill anyone who crossed her path. How could that John Riley say no to her? Who the hell did he think he was? The redhead then decided that whining about the man who had just rejected her wasn't fun or useful. Once in the room, the first thing she did was to get rid of her black dress and shoes (which apparently hadn't helped much).

After washing her face, brushing her teeth and putting on her PJs, the assassin finally went to bed. Not that she thought she could get any sleep though. Her mind was too busy trying to find a way to get a magnetic access card (preferably without killing anybody in the process).

"At least I have a king size bed all for myself." she thought. Natasha had made reservations in the presidential suite. She hated sharing. Especially the bed. Maybe that was one of the reasons Natasha preferred working alone.

The night was, indeed, terrible. The redhead had spent half of it staring at the ceiling thinking about that stupid card she didn't have and the other half, when she managed to sleep a little, dreaming about a thousand different ways of breaking Riley's neck.

The morning finally came bringing the most beautiful sunrise Natasha had ever seen. She then thanked the sun for putting an end to her awful night. She still didn't know what to do about the card and Riley but the one thing she did know for a fact was that in order to catch a prey, first you have to observe it.

It was almost eight o'clock when Natasha finally decided to get ready and go hunting Riley through the resort. She had no idea which room he was in but she intended to find that out. The first step was pretty simple: walk around until she ran into Riley. But since the hotel was enormous that could take a while. The best place to start her search was the leisure facilities she concluded. Everything was located there: restaurants, pools, bars, the spa…

"God, this place seems endless!" Natasha thought after two hours of walking without finding what she was after. Just when she had decided to give up, convinced John Riley was probably still sleeping, the redhead finally found what she was looking for. In an empty room with walls made of glass there he was: punching and kicking a boxing bag. He really seemed like he knew what he was doing and for a second Natasha reconsidered the idea of stealing from the guy. The redhead, however, decided to stick with her plan. He could be good at punching a bag but she was good at punching everything else. The man was alone. After all, who would go to the gym in a place with so many other fun things to do? John Riley apparently would. And if John Riley was going to the gym, so was she. Before walking in though, Natasha looked at her outfit. She was wearing something comfortable enough to work out properly but still sexy enough to draw Riley's attention. She took a deep breath and finally stepped into the room.

Clint was there for more than an hour now. Sweat was dripping from his face but that didn't make him stop. John Riley, nuclear weapons, Jonathan Harris, NSA, the blonde he had met at the bar…Barton was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when Natasha just walked in.

"So besides being wealthy and ecologically correct you also like to take care of your body?" a familiar voice asked and made Clint turn to see her.

There she was. The blonde girl from the other night. Barton could've recognized her anywhere. Even without the fancy dress and the killer lipstick, she still was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

"Jennifer, right?" Clint pretended not to remember her name.

"That's right," Natasha started "well, I hope I'm not a total disappointment, you know, in this light, without the dress and make up from last night…"

"Not at all!" the agent exclaimed "besides, I was hoping you wouldn't work out in those heels."

Natasha laughed and continued:

"I thought I'd find the place empty. You know, with so many other things to do I thought I'd be the only one in the gym."

"Me too," Barton said "but I like having company." He concluded and turned his attention back to his punch bag.

At least he didn't mind having her around. Well, that was a start. The redhead then decided to begin with her own exercises. The gym, like the rest of the hotel, was very big and well equipped. Maybe she should start with something for her legs. Nothing better to call the attention of a man. Leg press, leg extension…Wait, something caught her eye. It wasn't any of those exercise equipments and certainly it wasn't for the legs either. There, at a dark corner, all forgotten, lay a bow and a bag with a few arrows in it. In another room, Natasha noticed a target hanging on the wall. She had never done that before so she took the bow and one of the arrows and directed herself to that other room. She decided to save the leg whatever for later.

Clint was already getting tired and having Jennifer around only made it harder for him to stay focused. The best thing to do was to think about something else or simply not to think at all. Getting rid of his thoughts, especially the ones about Jennifer had worked so well that by the time he was completely worn out he found himself alone again.

The target room was smaller than the gym per say. The place would've been completely empty if it weren't for a couple of weights on the floor. Natasha was holding the bow with her left hand and had the arrow in her right one. She had never done that before so she had no idea how to do it. She then positioned the bow the best way she managed and set the arrow straight. Natasha took a deep breath and before shooting she imagined the target was John Riley's access card. SHHSSSS! The arrow hit the wall about five inches above the target.

"Damn it!" Romanoff said out loud.

"Maybe you should try to lift your elbow just a bit." A voice coming from the door caught her by surprise.

"Jesus, you scared me!" she exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to." Clint apologized as he walked into the room.

"It wasn't your fault. I was so focused on this that I didn't even see you there." the redhead said.

"You seemed pretty focused."

"Well, yeah. But apparently my focus didn't help much." a very frustrated Natasha said staring at the arrow pinned to the wall.

"Don't underestimate that. Focus in archery is essential." Barton stated.

"Don't tell me you know archery?" the assassin asked thinking if there was something that guy wasn't capable of doing.

"I know a little." Clint answered shyly.

"Ok. So let me recap here: you're rich, you're trying to save the planet, you take care of your body and you also know archery. What else you got on your list?" she asked seductively.

Clint simply smiled at her:

"As far as I know, it's your list," he stepped closer to her "and I never said I was rich."

The pair gazed at each other for a few seconds. Seconds that made Barton forget who and where he was.

"So I just have to lift my elbow then?" Natasha broke the silence between them.

"Yeah, just a little. The right one."Clint answered still recovering from her gaze.

The redhead laughed at his embarrassment. Maybe he was finally getting caught in her web.

"Can you show me?" she asked.

"Show you what?" now he asked confused.

"The thing with the elbow."

Clint hesitated. As far as he knew, John Riley didn't know archery. But what did he really know about Riley anyway? The only thing concrete the CIA knew about John Riley was that he could be that Mr. Riley guy and possibly an uranium seller in the black market. So, who knows, maybe he was an archery expert.

"Sure." he decided that showing her how to shoot an arrow wouldn't blow his cover after all.

Clint walked towards the target and removed the arrow from the wall. He went back to his initial position and took the bow. The object was slightly different from the one he was used to practice with. Smaller, maybe. Barton set the arrow straight and adjusted a thing or two on the bow. He looked at the center of the target, exhaled slowly and finally released the arrow. Bull's eye.

"Wow! Where did you learn to do that?" Natasha asked amazed by his precision.

"I practice whenever I can at the N…" Clint stopped. He had almost said NSA. He had almost compromised his cover and had almost jeopardized the entire mission. He had almost done all that and didn't even know why.

"…at my friend's gym. He taught me everything I know about archery." the agent lied. Clint didn't mind lying especially when he did it in order to protect his cover (which was the case).This time, however, he did mind. It was the second time he had lied to Jennifer and he hated it.

"He must be a hell of a friend." Natasha spoke.

"He is." Clint agreed.

For a brief moment, Barton considered telling the whole truth to Jennifer. He wanted to tell her that his real name was Clint Barton and that he was a NSA agent on a top secret mission. He wanted to tell her that he had been training archery since he got into the agency and that the only reason why he hadn't danced with her last night was because he couldn't afford putting her in danger. And she would be in danger if she found out the whole truth. Clint would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Jennifer just because he didn't feel like lying to her anymore. So he told nothing.

"Now, it's my turn." Natasha stated as she practically ran to the target to remove the arrow from it.

"You're really good at this." she said analyzing the exact spot the arrow had just hit. "I think from now on I'm gonna call you…" she thought of a nickname that would do justice to his skills. "Hawkeye!"

Clint looked at her in disapproval.

"What?" the redhead asked smiling "hawks are cute! I don't know anything about their eyes but…"

They both laughed.

"I like Hawkeye." he decided.

Natasha really didn't know anything about hawks' eyes, but she knew a little about men's and the ones of the man in front of her were beautiful. She hadn't paid much attention to them the other night at the bar, but now not looking at them was almost impossible. They were a mix of grey and blue…maybe green too. What she loved most about Clint's eyes wasn't what she had seen in them but what she had seen through them. He was a good man and the assassin hated finding that out.

"So how do I hold this again?" Natasha avoided looking at him. "Like this?"

"Yeah. Just try to lower your arm a little." Clint corrected her posture.

"And the arrow?" she asked positioning the flying object.

"Try to keep it as close as you can from your chin. Remember to raise your elbow."

"Like this?" she questioned after following all of his instructions.

"Yeah. Now you just have to lift your left arm a bit." Barton said.

"Didn't you just tell me to lower it?" Natasha was getting a little irritated.

Clint laughed.

"May I?" he said approaching her.

Now was Natasha's turn to hesitate. She wasn't used to ask for help, not even when she needed it. She decided, however, to make this one exception. She then nodded in consent.

The agent positioned himself at her side, slightly behind her. He moved his right arm behind Natasha's and his hand met hers.

"Now try to pull the arrow a bit more." Barton instructed and gently guided her hand.

With his left arm, he adjusted the bow.

"Remember the elbow." he touched her elbow and stood there.

Natasha followed every instruction.

"Like this?" she asked.

"Perfect." he finally said.

Barton took one more step towards Natasha, closing the distance between them even more.

"Now exhale slowly," Clint practically whispered in her ear "and shoot."

The arrow flew through the air and only stopped when it hit the target. Less than an inch from its center. Natasha smiled. She felt like a kid who had just learned a new word. Clint was still there. His arms around her. His hand on hers. Strangely enough she felt protected there, not that she needed any kind of protection, but in the arms of that man Natasha felt something that…she didn't suppose to feel.

"Well, an inch more and I'd be a Hawkeye too!" the redhead broke the moment and backed away from Clint.

"A little more practice and you definitely will be." Barton complimented her. "But you gotta choose another name though. Hawkeye is already taken."

Natasha smiled broadly.

"Thank you. You're a great teacher."

"And you are an excellent learner." he said.

"Is that what your friend used to tell you?" she mocked.

Clint Barton simply laughed.

"I need to go now, ok?" she said already making her way to the exit door. "Thanks again." she left.

"What the hell am I doing?" Natasha thought while walking around the empty corridor. How could she let that happen? And all that crap about his beautiful eyes and feeling protected in his arms? What was she? A 16 year-old girl? "You are an assassin, Romanoff." She stated mentally to herself. It was about time she got her plan into action. John Riley was just a prey and she had to keep that in mind.

**Reviews are still highly appreciated. Bye!**


	6. The locker room

**Hi guys I'm back! I was away for a few days so I wasn't able to update the story but as they say better late than never, right? So here it is:**

Chapter 6:

Natasha walked through the empty gym and before leaving she looked back to see if nobody was following her. Force of habit. The redhead had a plan and the first part of it had been a success. Now, all she needed to do was to find out what room Riley was in. Natasha knew that every guest in the hotel (including her) possessed a room key. The key was, in actuality, a card that had to be inserted into the door's locker in order to open it. Locking the door, however, didn't depend on such card. When shut down the door would lock itself automatically. Ergo, if John Riley had gone out of his room (which he had) and definitely locked his door, the card had to be with him. During their little archery class, Natasha wasn't able to locate his key. Clint was wearing pocketless pants and a T-shirt so the card couldn't possibly be with him. There was only one place that it could be.

The redhead walked a few more yards only to find a door that enabled access to a small corridor. She had been there before. The door indicated "vestiários". She was fluent in Portuguese so she didn't hesitate in entering it. For one last time she looked back. Nobody. By the end of the hall, Natasha found two opposite doors. One was the men's locker room the other one was the women's. She quickly turned to the former. The spy was sure that John Riley pretended to take a shower after his workout and in order to do that he had to have at least a towel and some clean clothes. So wherever those were, the key-card would be too.

Natasha cautiously stepped into the men's locker room. She wasn't planning on seeing any naked guy that morning. Thank God the place was empty. It took her just a second to spot a black bag on one of the benches close to the wall. It had to be Riley's. That was going to be so much easier than she thought. Before running towards the bag, the redhead gave one more look at her surroundings. The place was big and it was reasonably clean. At one side of it, there were the showers and some restrooms. Natasha took the time to check every booth to make sure she was really alone. At the opposite side, there were two benches and dozens of lockers. She mentally thanked Riley for not shoving his bag into one of those. Getting the key for the locker could be tricky. The assassin finally made a move towards her goal. The bag was very simple, black. The kind you take to the gym. Natasha sat on the bench and opened it. Just like she had predicted: a towel, clean clothes, soap, shampoo and deodorant. She started to go through his things only to find a glass bottle. Perfume to be exact. For some reason, curiosity maybe, the redhead opened the bottle and breathed in the aroma. The scent was soft; it had something citric about it, tropical. She inhaled the aroma again. It was the same scent she had smelled when Riley was close to her, teaching her how to aim properly. Natasha was a master in lying to people but she couldn't do it to herself. The truth was that she liked that scent. His scent. God! She was getting soft and she couldn't afford that. John Riley was just a mission and he was supposed to remain that way.

The redhead then closed the bottle abruptly and continued with her search. It didn't take long for Natasha to find what she was looking for. The key-card was indeed inside his bag pack just like she had predicted. Room 206. She couldn't help but smile to herself. Soon that would all be over. She would take his key, go to room 206, unlock the door, find his magnetic card and then finally get access to the conference in order to complete her assignment. She was actually relieved she wouldn't have to see John Riley ever again. He'd probably think he had lost his key somewhere and would never even suspect that she was the one who took it. Everything was going according to plan…Until then. Suddenly, Natasha heard a noise. It sounded like footsteps. Someone was approaching the locker room. For a moment, she thought of hiding next to the showers and fight whoever showed up but quickly decided against it. She then put the key back inside the bag pack and stepped away from it. The footsteps were getting closer now. She wouldn't have enough time to run. Natasha just remembered she was in the men's locker room…she would have to find a good excuse for that.

"O que você tá fazendo aqui?" a very surprised guy asked when he saw her in there.

She put her best innocent look on and played the role:

"I'm sorry!, she started faking a heavy accent she didn't actually have "I'm from Germany and …do you speak English…fala inglês?"

The man nodded allowing her to continue:

"I am from Germany and I don't know Portuguese very well…I thought this was the ladies room…I think I misread that. I'm so sorry!"

The man bought everything. The innocent look, the fake accent. She was a highly trained spy after all! Natasha made her way out still apologizing for the inconvenient. Once out of the room, the redhead couldn't help but curse out loud. In Russian. Five seconds ago she had the key in her hands and now she was back to square one. Natasha would have to settle for plan B which consisted in getting inside Riley's room the old fashioned way. With him. She was really hoping she wouldn't have to see him again… The assassin took a deep breath and then headed to the door that gave access back to the gym. Just when she was about to cross it she bumped into someone. Natasha was so immersed in her own thoughts that it took her a moment to recognize who that was.

"I'm sorry I didn't see you th…John!" she really had been caught off guard.

"I thought you'd left." he said.

"I had. But then I came back to…get…something." she wasn't used to be that bad of a liar.

"I can see that." he stated, amused by her confusion.

"But now I'm really leaving. So I guess I see you around then."

He smiled and then nodded. Clint couldn't look at her and not gaze into her beautiful green eyes. The effect those eyes were starting to have on him bothered the agent deeply. He watched her walk away and something hit him. What if he never saw her again? He would be leaving in two days. What if he didn't get lucky again to bump into her? The hotel was huge and the odds to find someone there by chance were slim to none. The only thing Clint had was a name but that wasn't enough. For the first time in his life he didn't just want to go on with the mission and forget about the girl. For the first time in his life he really liked the girl. Of course he wouldn't do anything hasty. He had a mission to accomplish and the last thing he wanted to do was to jeopardize it. Barton couldn't bear the thought of putting Jennifer in danger as well. He was a careful man though and she was worth it. With a resolution, Clint turned around and ran after her. He could have a day with her and he would make it count.

"Jennifer! Wait up!" he shouted behind her.

Natasha stopped and turned her head only to see John coming to her. She smiled and waited for him to say what he had to say.

"I was wondering…." he trailed off. He wasn't used to be like that around women.

She was still there waiting. Clint then cleared his throat and finally found his courage:

"I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch with me…that is if you don't have any plans already."

Natasha smiled broadly. He had finally gotten caught in her web. It was about time! She was getting that card tonight!

"I'd love to."

**Again, I think the context explains it but just in case:**

**O que você tá fazendo aqui? ****= What are you doing here?**

**Fala inglês? = Do you speak English?**


	7. The restaurant

**Hi guys! I guarantee this one will be longer and Natasha and Clint will interact much more! So for your entertainment:**

Chapter 7:

Clint had taken a quick shower after his workout session and then had gone straight back to his room. He was still unsure about his earlier decision. He was on a mission after all! Besides, Jennifer didn't even know his real name. All she knew about him was a lie. He wasn't John Riley, millionaire industrialist with a consciousness. No. He was Clint Barton, relatively poor NSA agent with a thing for suicidal missions. Comparing the two, Barton didn't find that hard to guess which one Jennifer would prefer. Which one any girl would prefer for that matter! He was already dressed for their date so that wasn't a good time to start regretting it. Clint straightened himself up as he watched his own reflection in the mirror. Since the date would take place in a restaurant by the beach, it was only suitable a comfortable outfit. He was wearing a white polo T-shirt and khaki pants. After fixing his hair, Barton rechecked himself in the mirror one last time. He let out a sigh. It was almost time for him to go. If he was going to bail on her, that was the time to do it. He stayed there a little longer, in front of the mirror, considering his options. Getting involved with a civilian in the middle of a highly dangerous mission was, in the best case scenario, stupidity. His agent instincts were screaming for him to call the whole thing off. He had to stay focused. Complete the mission. He couldn't afford any kind of distraction. On the other hand, Clint had never met anyone like Jennifer before. He'd had his share of beautiful faces being everywhere around the world but nothing that could compare to this, to her. If he decided to never see her again, he would go back to his vicious pattern and probably end up alone in an apartment he didn't feel like his own. Ryan and Miguel were right, he needed a better reason to live for and Jennifer could be that reason. Clint let out another sigh and with it decided that lunch couldn't hurt. He could only hope he had made the right decision.

* * *

That was definitely the right decision! Natasha thought as she looked herself in the mirror, impressed by her own image. She was glad she had taken that dress. It wasn't a show-stopper kind of dress at all. Quite the opposite actually. But for the occasion, it was the perfect outfit. The dress was long and white with a V cleavage. It was a bit loose but not enough to hide her curves. It had green flowers all over it which matched with her eyes. The earrings were also green and they imitated little dolphins. The sandals were simple, heelless. She was wearing very little make up since it was daytime. Natasha was almost ready, just one thing missing. She opened a drawer next to her bed and got the blonde wig. She let out a sigh. The whole outfit would work so much better if only she could go as a redhead. But she couldn't. Natasha then shoved that thought inside her mind and put the thing on. There! Now she was ready. John Riley wouldn't be able to resist her, not this time. She was willing to do whatever it took to have that card in her hands by the night. Natasha let out another sigh. The black widow was about to strike again.

* * *

The restaurant was, like the rest of the hotel, amazingly huge. The view was provided by an enormous window facing the ocean and it was indescribably beautiful. They were supposed to meet up at noon by the main entrance. Clint was there for more than twenty minutes now. He was already expecting some delay on her part, but she was taking way too long. What if something happened? What if she had reconsidered the whole thing and decided not to show up? Just when Barton was starting to reconsider the whole thing himself, he saw someone approaching. From where he was standing, he could clearly see her at the top of the stairs. If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have believed it. Every man in the place, no exception, turned their heads to see her walk down the stairs. There was silence for as long as she took to make her way to the entrance of the restaurant. Clint's heart skipped a beat when her eyes met his. She grinned at him and waved. He couldn't help but grinned back, even wider. He had made the right decision after all.

"I'm sorry I'm late." she said, not really meaning it.

He just looked at her.

"You probably won't believe me because every guy says that but… you were really worth the waiting." he stated, meaning every word.

They stood there for a minute longer. Clint was still hypnotized by her presence. Natasha was the one that broke the moment:

"We should get inside."

It took him a second to go back to the real world.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I'm starting to get hungry."

Clint let her lead the way to their table that was strategically placed next to the big window. He pulled her a chair and then settled himself on the opposite one. Now it was Natasha who was hypnotized:

"This view is just… mesmerizing."

"I couldn't agree more." Clint said not actually talking about the view.

Natasha looked back inside; apparently unaware of the attention she was drawing. The men in the restaurant kept staring at her which was starting to make Barton a little annoyed. He didn't know any good small talk starters but he had to do something. Just then, the waiter came over and handed both of them the menu. The agent mentally thanked the guy for giving him his cue:

"So, are you planning on ordering something local?"

Natasha, who was already reading her options, looked up at him:

"I don't know. Are you?"

"I guess. I certainly don't plan on wasting my money on something I can have anywhere else. What do you say? Care to join me?" he asked.

"Ok!" she answered. "But if the food isn't good, I'm blaming you!"

He laughed and went back to the menu. Clint had no clue about what to order. He wasn't an expert in Brazilian food and he wanted Jennifer to have a nice gastronomic experience. It was his idea after all! The best thing to do was to call the waiter to see what he could suggest. Barton made a sign and one of the waiters approached the table. Since he was fluent in Portuguese, Clint asked the other man about the food and the drinks in the local language. He secretly hoped that would impress Jennifer. The waiter recommended bobó de camarão and licor de pequi. Natasha stood quiet through their entire conversation and just when Clint was about to translate what the waiter had said she cut him off:

"It's okay, John. I understood his every word. I know Portuguese as well."

Well, that back fired. Now it was time for Natasha to do the talking. She ordered what the man had suggested and then thanked him. All in Portuguese. Clint was stunned:

"Where did you learn how to speak Portuguese?"

"I could ask you the same thing." she didn't answer.

It was time to be John Riley.

"Many of my investors are Brazilian so it's only fair that I get to talk to them in their language." he lied. "And what about you?"

"I spent two years in Portugal where I worked as a freelance journalist." she lied too.

"So you are a journalist."

"When I want to be." she teased.

He smiled and then continued:

"What else you got?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I mean it. As a journalist you must know more than just English and Portuguese. Am I right?"

Natasha could've played the inferior one and deny her real knowledge about languages but she decided that it would be much more fun if she gave him just that tiny bit of the truth.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you are." she paused to see if she had his full attention "let me see, there's French, Italian, German, Spanish, Arabic and Russian."

Clint was impressed to say the least.

"And you? As an international industrialist you must know a couple more. Am I right?"

Barton laughed at her attempt to sound like him. He decided to play her game.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you are." he started. "I know all the ones you do actually."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Minus the Russian."

Natasha smiled broadly. That was turning into a competition and she was winning.

"So, you're here because of a job or something?" Clint asked dragging her back from her thoughts.

Yes. In fact, he was the job. But she couldn't say that.

"I told you at the bar that I am on vacation."

"I remember. But only God knows with you journalists. There's always a story, right?"

"Yes. There's always a story. And right now I'm very interested in yours." she answered seductively.

He smiled a little embarrassed.

"What do you wanna know?"

"For starters, I'd love to know how a busy industrialist like yourself finds the time to learn archery." she teased again.

"You can't let that go, can you? I've told you, my friend taught everything I know."

"I'm not buying that." she said smiling.

Clint wanted to tell her the truth. Not only the truth about how he really learned archery, but the truth about him, about why he was in Brazil. The silence, in that case, was a better reply.

Noticing that she wasn't about to get any answers, Natasha decided to change the subject:

"Fine! I'm gonna give that a rest…for now." then she continued "Do you have a family?"

Ok. She was getting personal. Barton could make something up about John Riley's family which he didn't know anything about and sound convincing enough. After all he lied for a living. But what difference it would actually make, really? That was the kind of question he could answer with the truth. He was glad to share this piece of real information with Jennifer. Finally.

"My parents live in Iowa, where I was born and raised. I have a sister called Diana and a younger brother named Doug."

"Well, that's quite a family. I took you for the spoiled only child who never got to see its parents because they were always working."

"Glad that I surprised you then."

"Yeah. I'm glad too."

"What about your family?" now it was Clint who was curious.

Silence. That was the second time that day she had been caught off guard. They gazed at each other for more than they should but less than they wanted only to be interrupted by a phone ring. The agent took his cell from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Ryan.

"I'm sorry, but I have to take this."

"Sure. Take your time." Natasha stated.

"Excuse me." Clint said before moving to a quieter place, away from the tables.

"Barton." he finally picked it up.

"Hey, hey cowboy. I'm just calling to fill you in about the mission status so far." Ryan started.

"What do you got?" Clint asked, now being reminded that he had a job to do.

"Our agents have been able to intercept John Riley and his wife at JFK. Apparently there was something wrong with his luggage." Ryan said ironically and then carried on "the NSA will try to hold him in the U.S. for a couple of days so you should be fine."

Those were good news.

"Thanks for the heads up. If something comes up you let me know, ok?" Barton said.

"You got it. Now I have to go." the other agent hung up.

Clint looked at his table. By the looks of it, their meal had just arrived. He then stared at his cell. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted again and since everything was going according to plan, Barton figured what the hell. So, before heading back to Jennifer he turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**Federal Police interrogation office, JFK airport:**

He had no idea what was going on. He was supposed to be in a flight to Brazil in order to attend a Conference. Those men who had taken him there had said something about suspicious luggage or something. He hadn't been informed about anything yet. The interrogation room was completely white with only a table in the center and two chairs around it. By then, he was still alone, but he knew he was being watched.

"He doesn't look like a bad guy." one of the two agents watching Riley through the glass window commented.

"They usually don't." the other one stated.

Just then, a third agent walked into the interrogation room. He went straight to the vacant chair. He sat and stared at John Riley.

"Now can you tell me what is going on?" Riley asked apprehensively.

"Relax, Riley. We just need to ask you a couple of questions."

"Is it okay for my wife to come in? She must be worried." John asked in a tone just a little above a whisper.

The agent consented and a few minutes later, Mrs. Riley stepped into the place. Another man came in with a third chair so she could sit next to her husband. John Riley relaxed a little with the presence of his wife.

"We brought you here because apparently there is something wrong with your luggage. The metal detector caught something and we need to check. Standard procedure. It will only take a…"

"There's nothing wrong with our luggage." Mrs. Riley cut the agent off.

"Excuse me?"

She didn't repeat what she had just said, instead she made a request:

"Can we do this in private? My husband doesn't have to be here."

The agent raised an eyebrow. That was odd. But since the whole plan was to stall the couple so the NSA could complete their mission, he decided he could spend a few minutes listening to Mrs. Riley's pleas.

"Sure. Why not?" the man said and dismissed John.

The industrialist looked at his wife for one last time before leaving. She was strangely calm. He then stood up and left. There was a complete silence between the agent and the woman. After a few more seconds, he decided to break it:

"I know you must be very concerned about this whole situation but I can assure you this will only take a minute."

She just smiled at him, still very calm.

"What are you looking for exactly?"

The agent didn't seem to follow.

"Let me guess then. Uranium?"

The man's eyes widened. How could she know?

"Our company sells minerals to other companies, agent. We have major deals with the top industries in the planet. We have just closed a big one with Stark Industries by the way. And we do have the government's permission to sell uranium to those companies." Mrs. Riley stated.

"And what about Harris Industries?" the agent asked.

"Jonathan Harris is a client just like the others."

"So all of your clients are being accused of selling nuclear weapons in the black market?" now the man was raising his tone.

"I don't know anything about that and I bet neither do you."

"It's just a matter of time before we can prove Harris is dealing under the table and your husband's company is helping him out."

She laughed out loud.

"I don't intend to be in your way, but the thing is agent…" she paused and waited for his name.

"Reynolds." he said.

"Agent Reynolds. See, you've got nothing on us. Our luggage is perfectly fine as we both know and while you were with my husband, I took the time to call my lawyer. So now if you excuse me, I have a plane to catch."

He swallowed hard. The NSA didn't have anything to hold them there any longer; especially with a lawyer involved. He had no choice. He would have to let them go.

Mrs. Riley stood up and headed to the door. Before leaving she stopped:

"And agent Reynolds, just for the record: the company is mine." she left.

Reynolds ran to the other room:

"Call Ryan immediately. We have a problem"

**Ok! I'd just like to remind you guys that I'm not basing Clint's or Natasha's backstories on the comics. So here, he has a nice family who lives in Iowa. I saw this in another fanfiction so maybe it helps: Reviews are love! Até a próxima!**


	8. The sunset

**Oi! We´re basically in the middle of the story right now and I hope you are enjoying reading it just as much as we are enjoying writing it! We would like to dedicate this chapter to our beloved cousin Natália (tem acento?) who's taking the time to read this fanfiction. It means a lot to us, really. Now, let's cut to the chase:**

Chapter 8:

"…and just then I realized I was chasing the wrong dog!" Clint finished his story among laughter. The whole thing involved a fried chicken, a running dog and a desperate mother. Natasha was laughing too. Not a fake laugh she would only give to please him or any of her sexy ones with a hidden agenda. No. This time she was genuinely laughing, in a way she hadn't for a long time.

"I haven't laughed that hard in years!" she said still catching her breath.

They had been there for hours. Natasha had stopped counting after she heard an old man telling his wife that it was already a quarter past two. The restaurant was practically empty now. Just a few tables remained occupied.

"We've been here for a while." Clint said, watching through the window. The sun was almost touching the horizon.

"A little longer and that waiter will bring us the menu for dinner." he joked.

Natasha laughed:

"And then you can use your Portuguese to try to impress me again."

"I don't think it would work." Clint said a little embarrassed. "I must say… you're pretty hard to impress, Jennifer."

And he had no idea how much. The redhead thought. Maybe she should say something to boost his ego. Men liked that. After all, she was supposed to seduce Riley and in order to do so she had to be a little forward. Something in that man, however, made Natasha suspect that he wasn't like the others.

"You'll have other opportunities." she stated without disagreeing that she was in fact pretty hard to impress.

Clint smiled.

"How about a walk on the beach?" Natasha suggested staring at the view. "The sun will set soon and we can watch it front row seat."

Barton looked at the ocean. Definitely that would be a hell of a sunset.

"That's a great idea." the agent agreed.

The redhead stood up and started to walk towards the door.

"And who knows, maybe you get to impress me while we're there." she said without looking back.

* * *

The beach was beautiful. The thin white sand was caressing their feet. The ocean came and went sometimes in blue, sometimes in green or orange.

"Have I already said that this was a great idea?" Clint asked admiring the view.

"It's one of my skills, you know. Having great ideas." Natasha joked.

"Really?" he questioned laughing "what other skills do you have?"

Really John? That was the question? The spy thought. That was way too easy. She could answer anything. Anything she knew he would like to hear. After all, Jennifer could have any skills Natasha wanted her to have. But it wasn't Jennifer who answered his question though:

"I can flip a pancake." Natasha said in a more serious tone. "You know the whole thing of throwing it in the air and then catching it again with the fry pan? I can do that."

She stopped walking for a moment. That was the first time she had ever shared a real piece of information about herself. She hadn't lied about being fluent in all those languages but this was different. It was a stupid piece of information which didn't say much about her but it was true. It was something that perhaps nobody else knew about her. Natasha Romanoff could flip a pancake. Sharing that made her feel exposed and vulnerable like she had just revealed her biggest secret.

"And I also can speak Portuguese better than you." Natasha completed getting a loud laugh out of Clint.

Maybe it was best for her to continue with the lies.

That was the cliché of all the clichés: a beach in paradise, amazing sunset, the perfect girl…If it weren't for the fact that he was about to be face-to-face with one of the biggest weapons sellers in world pretending to be someone he practically didn't know anything about, Clint would be living the dream. Not that he was the dreamer type. In actuality, Clint had always been proud to say that he was a realistic, especially when it came to women. He didn't believe in soul mates or dream girls. The agent then looked at the woman walking by his side. She was holding her sandals in her left hand and had her feet completely immersed in the water. She was admiring the sun and its rays on her skin made her look even more beautiful, if that was possible. That face certainly held the power to turn the ultimate skeptical into a big dreamer.

"So that's your plan to impress me? Be quiet the whole time?" Natasha dragged him back from his thoughts.

"I've run out of plans to impress you." he answered "and it's not like you're making it any easier for me."

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"I'm serious. How am I supposed to impress a girl I know nothing about?" Barton slowed his pace.

"The only thing I do know about you is that you can speak a hundred languages and flip a pancake." he then continued "back at the restaurant, you spent hours listening to my stories but didn't tell any of yours." he paused to be sure she was really listening "so you gotta agree with me when I say that you're not making this any easier."

Natasha simply laughed at the frustration of the man on her side.

"I'm not used to share my stories." she explained.

"Journalist thing?" Clint asked.

"Something like that." the redhead said.

They started to walk again in same rhythm at each other's sides. The silence filled the air. Natasha looked at Clint. He was walking, his gaze sometimes at the sun that had almost disappeared in the horizon, sometimes at the water on his feet. What was wrong with that guy? The redhead thought. He had told her many of his personal stories without expecting her to do the same. He had made her laugh in a way no other had ever done. And up until that point, he had behaved himself as a perfect gentleman, even in that night at the bar, when she was giving every possible green light. He hadn't tried anything yet, not even holding her hand (something she was certain he would at least give it a try). He just kept walking by her side and that seemed enough. Natasha breathed in and for a moment reconsidered what she was about to do:

"I had a sister." the assassin finally broke the silence. She hesitated for a moment but then decided to continue:

"Her name was Mila. She was five years younger than me. We were always together, you know? She kept saying she wanted to be like me, she was always asking me to teach her everything I knew…and I would…everything I knew." Natasha exhaled:

"And she would learn so fast…I remember this one time when I taught her how to make a rock skip across the water…" she smiled at the memory "she only needed to do it twice to get it right…and her rock skipped two times more than mine."

Natasha then took a little rock in the sand and threw it at the water. It skipped seven times before sinking.

"Sometimes I wouldn't teach her things because I didn't want her to be better than me."

She was still facing the ocean, but had noticed that Clint had stopped walking and was now standing behind her, listening to her every word.

"She was always better than me."

The redhead felt the tears forming in her eyes but held them there. Maybe she should stop now. John wouldn't ask her what had happened to Mila. She could just stop right there and continue to walk because she knew he would respect her decision. But he deserved to know the whole story. And she needed to tell the whole story.

"She died in an accident." Natasha preferred not to go into the details "I couldn't do anything." she swallowed hard "she was eleven."

Natasha felt like an enormous weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. She was relieved after sharing her story; of course it was the short, poorly detailed version of it but it was her story. It was a part of her life, of her past. A part that she thought she would never share with anyone. The relief, however, came with something bad, a horrible pain she hadn't felt in a long time. The spy finally gave up and allowed the tears to roll down her face.

"I really miss her." Natasha said meaning every word.

Just then she noticed Clint approaching her. She turned around to face him, a little embarrassed for crying.

"Hey." Barton went to her when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry about your sister." he tried, knowing that his words wouldn't change anything.

Clint gave another step towards her.

"God, I'm a mess!" Natasha started "that was over ten years ago and I'm crying like it happened yesterday…" she was trying to wipe her tears.

"There's nothing wrong with that." he stated "some things simply never stop hurting. They get easier with time but they will always be there." he continued "I'm sure that twenty years from now when you tell this story again to someone else you'll cry just as much."

Clint paused and got even closer to Natasha. They were less than an inch away from each other now. He gently touched her face to wipe the stubborn tears that just wouldn't stop falling.

"And there's nothing wrong with that."

Clint kept his hand on her face and delicately lifted it up. He wanted to look at that woman. Her eyes were swollen, her nose was red and the hair was all messed up due to the wind.

"You are beautiful." he finally said, making sure she was looking at him and had just listened to every word.

Slowly, Barton cupped her face in his hands and brought it even closer to his. What the hell was happening? Or better yet, what the hell was about to happen? The redhead thought. She had just told her most intimate story to a man she barely knew. She had let him see her cry. And now she was about to kiss him. Actually he was the one who was about to kiss her. John Riley was about to kiss the cold-blooded assassin Natasha Romanoff. That wasn't the plan. John Riley was supposed to kiss the nice journalist Jennifer Brighton. But the woman there wasn't Jennifer. At least not anymore. Since she decided to tell the true story about her sister, the redhead knew there would be no turning back. Aside from the wig, that woman on the beach was all Natasha, a Natasha that nobody had ever known before. And that wasn't the plan.

Clint's lips were only a few millimeters from hers when she turned her head slightly. The subtlety of the movement was enough to pull him away. He opened his eyes and backed away:

"I'm sorry. I thought that…" the agent started to apologize.

"No!" Natasha interrupted "I led you on. I'm the one who should be apologizing." she said, mentally cursing herself for wasting a chance like that. She had to get his card that night but nothing that had happened so far made her think she would be able to.

"I'm an idiot." Clint talked again "I mean, you were crying and I was trying to make you feel better…I guess I ended up doing that the wrong way…I just don't want you to think that I was trying to take advantage from the situation."

"I know you were not." Natasha stated rubbing her eyes that were still watering.

"I hate crying." she said "It gives me headache."

She really hated crying. But not because of the headache. It was because of the vulnerability that would come with the tears. She hated showing people that she felt sadness, pain. She hated showing that she felt anything at all.

"We should get back. It's getting dark." the spy suggested, hating herself for being the one who came up with the brilliant idea of walking on that stupid beach.

"You're right." he agreed.

They began walking again, this time towards the hotel. They were still side by side, but remained more distant from each other.

"And about your headache…" Barton continued "I have some pills for that back in my room." He stopped for a moment, only to be sure she hadn't misinterpreted his words.

"If you want, we could go there and get them." Clint finished.

Maybe the whole idea of walking on the beach hadn't been so bad after all…She would finally have her chance to go inside John Riley's room. And she wouldn't even have to break in. She had been invited. This time, nothing and nobody would stop her from stealing his conference card and complete the mission she had been sent to do for once and for all.

Natasha smiled:

"It seems like a good idea."

**So, what about the almost kiss? Soon, they will learn the truth about each other and things will get so much fun! Stay tuned!**


	9. The bottles

**I don't wanna give away too much about this chapter so it's better for me to just go right to it:**

Chapter 9:

"Welcome to my humble room!" Clint joked, trying for once and for all to get rid of the awkwardness from their little "beach incident".

The room was, in fact, pretty simple. It was neat, but small. Smaller than Natasha's room for sure. A single bed, a couple of furniture here and there, a very small bathroom and that was it. Maybe he was the type of rich guy who didn't like ostentation. She thought while stepping into the place.

There! She finally had managed to get into Riley's room. Now, all she had to do was to find out where his card was and then get the hell out.

"Make yourself at home." Barton said. "I'm gonna get your pill." he headed to the bathroom.

Natasha didn't wait for a second longer and sprinted to the minibar. She then took the two bottles of water in there and threw them under the bed.

"Aspirin or vicodin?" Clint asked from the bathroom.

"Aspirin." the redhead answered randomly and straightened herself up.

"Here." he exited the bathroom with a pill in his hand.

"Thank you." she took the medicine. "You wouldn't have any water around, would you?

"Sure." the agent went to the minibar "well, that's odd. I could swear I had a couple of bottles in here." he said confused.

"That's okay; I think I can swal…" Natasha started but was interrupted.

"No, not at all. I'll go get your water." Clint spoke and went to the door. "Stay here." he ordered and left.

That was great! Going down to the lobby, finding an employee, asking for a bottle of water, waiting for it and then coming back up…Natasha had about ten minutes. She had to make them count. Where would Riley keep that stupid card? She quickly opened all the drawers in the wardrobe. They were all empty. Just then, Natasha noticed that he hadn't even unpacked yet, so it had to be inside his suitcase.

Clint closed the door and headed to the elevator. Halfway though, the agent ran into one of the employees responsible for that floor. He had an idea:

"Ei amigo!" Barton called "do you speak English?" he asked before continuing.

The man nodded positively.

"Would you have a bottle of water there with you, by any chance?"

"Let me check." the man said and immediately started to look through the things on the service room car.

The suitcase was on the bed and Natasha opened it. His clothes were practically untouched. She carefully went through them, trying to find the card. Nothing. During her search however, the spy noticed two compartments in the bag's interior. The card could only be in one of them.

Clint was still waiting for his water, but was almost giving up.

"Today is your lucky day!" the employee finally grabbed a bottle. "It's the last one." he handed it to the agent.

"Thanks man!" Barton took it and ran back to his room.

Natasha had already checked the right compartment but only found shaving cream inside. The redhead was almost giving up when…there it was! In the left compartment of John Riley's suitcase. She had to hold a shout of happiness. Natasha finally had that card in her hands! She held it close to her as she walked towards the door. Suddenly, the assassin noticed a turn on the doorknob. Instinctively, she ran to the bed; put the card back in the suitcase and then closed it. All that took only five seconds.

"You're not gonna believe this." Clint started, shutting the door. He looked around but couldn't find Natasha.

"Jennifer?" he called for her but had no response. "Jennifer?" he called again, now a little worried.

"I'm here!" a voice echoed from the balcony.

Barton followed it, opening the curtains and crossing the glass door that gave access to the exterior.

"I thought you had left and stolen my aspirin." he joked.

She laughed.

"I would never steal anything from you."

"I hope not." now they both laughed.

They remained in silence for a few moments, allowing themselves to enjoy the view. The balcony faced the beach and the moon was beautiful.

"Here's your water." Clint handed her the bottle.

"Thank you." she opened it and used its content to swallow the pill. "For everything I mean. For the water, the pill…for the company on the beach."

They turned their attention back to the view. There was nothing more that she could do. She had lost her chance once again. And she'd had it. It was time to find another way to get into the conference. She had been stupid enough already, trying to go on with her plan to seduce Riley. Natasha was a good spy, one of the best actually. She would find another way.

"I think I'm gonna go now." she said trying to hide her disappointment.

"Yeah. You should rest." the agent agreed.

The two walked back inside.

"And anyway, I don't want you to be late." she stated and was replied with a confused look.

"The conference." she explained. "The opening ceremony. It's tonight, right?

"Oh, yeah!" Clint had completely forgotten about that. "I don't think I'm gonna go though." he completed.

"So, you're gonna miss the party?" the redhead questioned.

"I'm not much of a party guy." Barton answered then continued "besides, the opening speech will be given by this Tony Stark guy. I don't know him but I've heard he's a narcissist arrogant asshole."

"I've heard that too." Natasha agreed. "Well, either way, I really have to go now." she approached him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good night, John."

It was true that her plan had failed miserably and John Riley hadn't been useful but he was a good man after all. The redhead then turned around and went to the door.

There she was, leaving again. And Clint couldn't do anything to stop her. Or could he?

"Jennifer!" he called her. She stopped at the sound of his words and turned to face him.

"As you know, the conference ends tomorrow night. I'll probably spend the whole day listening to brilliant ideas on how to make the world a better place…" he said ironically "but at night, there's gonna be this gala ball thing. Everybody's gonna be there." Barton paused "I was wondering …would you like to go with me?" he finally asked.

No! Natasha couldn't believe her ears. She was getting into the conference! And she didn't even have to break into his room or steal his card. All she had to do was to answer a simple question.

"If you don't want to, it's fine I just…" Clint tried to fill the silence.

"Yes!" she cut him off, maybe a little too excited.

"I would love to." now she was trying to maintain her cool.

Clint now had his biggest smile.

"Good." he said "so, I see you tomorrow." the agent wasn't hiding his happiness.

The assassin just smiled and started to head towards the door.

"Jennifer!" he called her out "What room are you staying?"

This time Natasha stopped but didn't face him. The number of her room was way too much information and she wasn't planning on giving it to him. If she didn't, however, he could begin to suspect that something was off…The redhead considered the options. It was just a number. It wouldn't make any difference.

"317." Now she turned to him and answered with the truth.

" ." he memorized the number "So, tomorrow at eight, I'll be there to pick you up."

"And I'll be waiting." Natasha stated but instead of going she remained exactly where she was, staring at him.

"What?" Clint asked confused by her attitude.

"Nothing. I'm just waiting for you to say something. Every time I try to leave the room you call me up again, so I'm staying right here this time."

Barton laughed.

"I think I've already said all I wanted to say. You're free to go now."

She smiled one more time and then finally headed to door.

"Jennifer!" he called her again. Natasha turned her head, this time a little irritated.

"Just kidding."

She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior, but she had to admit it was kind of funny.

"Good night, Riley." she said one last time and left.

Natasha checked the hall before allowing herself a brief moment of enthusiasm. Tomorrow night she would be at the conference gala ball accompanied by John Riley. Finally, she would be able to locate Jonathan Harris in order to complete her mission.

* * *

Clint was looking like a kid. He had a big smile on his face while he kept jumping across the room. After a few more minutes, Barton got tired of acting like a stupid guy in love and decided that it was time for a shower. He took his shirt off and tossed it on the bed. Then, the agent took off his watch and put it on the night table. Before taking of his pants, however, Clint shoved his hand in his pocket to get his cell and…Shit! He had turned it off at the restaurant and had forgotten to turn it on again. Barton quickly did it and placed the device on the bed too. He then unzipped his suitcase in order to find clean clothes. Maybe he should shave. Ever since he got to the hotel, he hadn't had the proper time to do it. Clint opened the right compartment inside his bag and for his surprise, he found something else other than his shaving cream. My card? he mentally questioned. He could swear he had put it in the left compartment…The agent then took the card but before putting it away, he spent a few seconds more just staring at it. Tomorrow night he would appear at the conference ball with Jennifer and…Damn it! Jonathan Harris! He was supposed to locate Jonathan Harris and complete his mission. That was what he was supposed to do tomorrow night, that was what he was supposed to be getting ready for. How could he have been so reckless? He couldn't take Jennifer to the ball because there was the place where Riley and Harris were supposed to meet. He couldn't take any risks. Clint ran to the bed in order to put his shirt back on. The agent had to go to Jennifer's room to cancel their date. Before reaching the piece of garment however, his cellphone rang. Barton answered it quickly.

"Clint!" an oddly desperate Ryan exclaimed "where the hell have you been, man? I've been trying to reach you all day…What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Clint started "I think my battery ran out and I didn't notice." he didn't sound too convincing.

"Cut the bullshit, Barton. You would never forget to recharge your cell…especially on a mission."

Clint remained in silence. He really sucked at lying to his best friend but he couldn't just tell him the truth.

"You're not doing anything stupid, are you?" Ryan started again "Because I know you and you're always making stuff up, things that are not exactly part of the plan and..."

"I'm not doing anything…" Barton cut him off "stupid." He didn't lie. Trying to win Jennifer's heart was a pretty clever thing to do, well, at least in his opinion. Maybe not very clever while on a mission but still…

"Well, anyway it doesn't matter because the mission is off." Ryan dragged him back from his thoughts.

Clint literally fell on the bed.

"What?" the agent asked "Why?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you all day." Ryan answered still a little mad about the whole battery excuse.

"Apparently, John Riley is just a messenger, who really runs things in the company is his wife Elizabeth Anne Riley."

"What do you mean?" Barton interrupted "What about the call the CIA intercepted?"

"In that call, Riley just sets up the meeting with Harris, he never mentions who is gonna be meeting him."

"So, maybe it's really Riley who's supposed to show up at the meeting, right?" Clint suggested.

"Yeah. Maybe." Ryan agreed "Or maybe not."

"Well, that is risk I'm willing to take." Barton stated.

"No, you're not. Not this time. Sullivan himself ordered the abortion of the mission. We don't have enough information. It's too risky."

"There's gotta be another way." Clint said frustrated.

"Well, unless you have brought a dress and red lipstick, we have no other option." Ryan paused for a minute. "I'm serious. This is not the U.S., ok? It's not just a simple little mission where you get to do something crazy and play the hero. This is big. And dangerous." Ryan stopped to be sure he had his friend's full attention.

"We get Harris another day." he finally said.

"Fuck!" Clint cursed out loud and punched the night table next to him, making his watch to fall and roll under the bed. He let out a sigh and got down to get it. He found it pretty fast along with two bottles of water? That was odd. They were still cool which meant the person who had put them there did it not a long time ago. Clint knew he wasn't that person so that left…

"Jennifer!" he said aloud.

"What?" Ryan was still on the line.

"Ryan, I'll have to call you back." Clint hung up.

What the hell was going on? Why would Jennifer hide the bottles? For God's sake, Barton! He thought. He wasn't an idiot. She unquestionably had hidden the bottles in order to force him to go get new ones, so she could be alone in the room. But why would she want to be alone there in the first place? That didn't make any sense at all to him. Just then, it all hit him. The card! Clint finally remembered the exact moment when he put it in his suitcase. He was right after all. He had, indeed, put the card inside the left compartment.

So she wants to get into the conference. The agent rationalized. That made even less sense. Why would she need his card anyway? For a journalist like Jennifer Brighton, getting access to an event like that supposed to be easy, right? Barton stopped for a moment. He then picked the phone and dialed a number.

"Recepção do hotel, em que posso ajudá-lo"? a female voice came on.

"Hi." he said in English. He simply wasn't in the mood for Portuguese.

"Sorry, sir. May I help you?" the woman asked the same question now in English.

"Well, I don't know if you can help me…" Barton started.

"I'll do my best." she said politely.

"I am supposed to meet with this person I've just met here, you know…she gave me the number of her room but I can't quite remember exactly what it was…I know it's 3 something. Her name is Jennifer Brighton."

"Jennifer Brighton?" the woman asked for confirmation. "Let me check and I'll get back to you."

After a minute or so, the voice came back on:

"Sir, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I've already checked three times and there's no Jennifer Brighton on the third floor." She paused for a moment and then continued "Actually, there is no Jennifer Brighton in the entire hotel."

"Maybe you got her name wrong." the voice spoke again.

"Yeah. Maybe." the agent agreed. "But, thanks anyway." he hung up.

Clint just stood there in silence thinking. First, the bottles. Then, the card. And now her name. That woman had played him good the whole time and worse, he had let himself be played. But not anymore. He got up and got dressed. Before leaving though, he got his gun, not that he was planning on using it or anything. What else had that woman lied about? Well, Clint didn't know but he was about to find out.

**A lot of dialogue in this one, right? A lot of revelations as well. I hope there are no plot holes so far and as usual I'd love to hear from you guys! So reviews continue to be highly appreciated! See you next time!**


	10. The confrontation

**Finally! The chapter that everybody has been waiting for! I hope you all like it and then let me know what you think:**

Chapter 10:

317. Clint was there now, facing those little three numbers on the door. Maybe she had lied about the number of her room too. After all, she had lied about everything else. But if her intention was to get into the conference and that depended only on Riley's invitation to the ball, then maybe she had told the truth.

Perhaps he should knock and pretend to be the same idiot he had been so far. He would get into the room and when the best opportunity presented itself, the agent would confront her and find out the whole truth. Or perhaps he should simply break in, point a gun to her head and make her tell him everything. Barton analyzed the two options and decided that the second one was a little exaggerated. For all it was worth, he still was John Riley. The agent inhaled deeply.

Natasha was getting ready to take a shower when she heard the knocks on the door. She only had her black bra and panties on by now and was already without the wig. The assassin sighed and then walked to the door to spy through the peephole. John? She thought a little surprised by his presence at her door. Maybe he had forgotten to tell her something. Quickly the redhead became blonde again and put a bathrobe on. He knocked one more time. "How impatient!" Natasha said to herself. What did he want? She mentally asked already in front of the door. She then put a hand on the doorknob and just when she was about to turn it, the spy suddenly stopped. "He is not impatient." Natasha affirmed. Indeed, he wasn't. The little that she knew about him was telling her he was exactly the opposite. After all, what could possibly require more patience than archery? The redhead let go of the doorknob and checked the peephole again. There was something off about him. For a normal person, the John standing at the door was the same John from the restaurant and from the beach. But Natasha wasn't a normal person. She knew something was wrong. She spent a few more seconds analyzing the man on the other side of the door. A man Natasha no longer knew. His eyes had changed. Those eyes, once kind and serene, now reflected hatred. They were dark, attentive just like the eyes of an animal waiting for its prey. For a moment, she was afraid. What could've possibly happened for him to be so angry and…The assassin interrupted her own mental question. "The bottles." she said louder than she intended to. In the confusion, she hadn't had time to get rid of the bottles. "What if he had found them?" The redhead backed away from the door. Even if he had indeed found them that didn't mean anything. There was no actual reason for him to jump into the conclusion that she was the one who had tossed the objects under the bed. It could have been anyone. Maybe a careless maid… Natasha was still trying to understand the situation. She went to the door and peeped once again. The same scary eyes. He couldn't possibly be suspecting that she was the responsible for the bottles unless…The assassin froze. She then remembered everything: the walking to the door with the card in her hands, the doorknob turning, the running back to his suitcase, she putting the card…in the right compartment. Shit! She was so desperate that didn't even realize when she put the card in the wrong place. And if he had noticed that, the bottles under the bed were just the icing on the cake.

So, he had figured everything out. Ok, maybe not everything but he would definitely not be falling for the whole "hi, my name is Jennifer Brighton and I'm journalist on vacation" kind of story anymore. Shit!

Clint was about to lose his nerves, something that rarely happened. He decided he would knock one more time and if she didn't open, he'd go in anyway. So he knocked and then waited and waited…nothing. He'd had it. It was time to find out the best way to open that locker. Just as he touched the doorknob to better examine it, the door simply unlocked. That was odd. Clint straightened himself up and spied through the slightly open door.

"Jennifer?" he called, trying to sound as natural as possible.

Barton cautiously opened the door completely but didn't dare walking inside the room. In front of him, there was a dark, empty hall.

"Jennifer?" the agent repeated while stepping into the place. He shut the door behind him. Whatever it was about to happen in there, it was better for nobody to see it.

Clint took his gun. Now he was no longer John Riley. He was a NSA agent ready to face the enemy. Barton walked slowly through the empty hall until he reached the area where the bedroom was located, which, by the way, was huge. A sound coming from the bathroom caught his attention. Water. The shower was on. The agent, still with his gun at the ready, went to the bathroom's door. It was closed, but not locked. Before going in, however, Clint looked around one last time to make sure there was no one hiding in the room.

He pushed the door slowly. The steam was too dense by now. Barton couldn't see anything, but he held his gun in position just in case.

What the hell was that? Natasha thought as she saw the ever so kind and sweet John Riley with that weapon in his hands. She had been hidden behind the door inside the bathroom. That was exactly what she wanted. The spy was planning to attack him there and then kill him. He knew too much already and could jeopardize her mission. Natasha wasn't expecting the gun though, so that would make things just a little harder than she had initially thought.

The assassin used her advantage to deliver a kick in the gun. The object flew from Clint's hands to the bedroom's floor. Barton, who had been taken completely off guard, tried to counterstrike but Natasha managed to dodge his blow. Now it was her time to attack. She tripped him and the lost of balance made Clint stumble to the bathtub. The redhead quickly sprinted to the door, in an attempt to reach the gun. Natasha was, however, stopped by a strong pull on her robe that made her fall on her back. Clint was standing again and before she could have the chance to get up, the agent went to the spy and grabbed her. She tried to fight back making both of them head to the shower. The assassin hit the wall hard and couldn't help a grunt of pain. They were soaking wet by now and Natasha was still trying to get rid of Clint's hold on her. That would be something great to do with her in the shower not given the circumstances. Barton lost his focus for a second and allowed the redhead to attack. She used their proximity to hit her head against his. Clint immediately set her free, slightly dizzy. Natasha, equally dizzy, managed to step out of the shower. She was almost at the door when she tripped over her own robe. "Damn it!" she shouted. From the ground, the assassin could see a very wet Clint walking past her. Natasha did the best she could and deliver a kick in his back, throwing the agent over. Natasha crawled as fast as she could to the weapon and when she had finally reached it, Clint kicked the object under the bed. He was still recovering from her last blow so she had enough time to stand up.

They were facing each other now. Staring at one another. They were both panting. Maybe that would be a lot harder than she had initially thought. Well, but it didn't matter. Natasha was going to kill him. She took a deep breath, stretched her neck and took off her robe. That thing was definitely not helping.

That was low. Clint thought and allowed himself to appreciate the view. She had the most amazing body he had ever seen (and that included the models from Victoria's Secret catalogues). Everything was just perfect. Nothing too small, nothing too big. The agent hated admitting that if she had done that a few minutes ago; maybe the whole shower episode would have had a different turn…Barton needed to get rid of his current thoughts, they were getting in the way. After all she was the enemy, with a hell of a body, but still the enemy. Why did she have to make things so difficult?

Now it was time for Clint to ditch a piece of clothing. In his case, it was his shirt. The thing was soaking wet and he was freezing. Besides, the fabric could be a disadvantage. Natasha laughed at the whole situation. If he was thinking she would get distracted by those arms and his six pack abs, he was terribly wrong. She had to admit that it would be a waste to kill him, but who cared?

The redhead barely waited for Clint to take his shirt off and then ran towards him. This time he was prepared. The agent managed to duck her blow and grabbed Natasha by her waist, throwing her over the bed. She fell on her back on the mattress with Clint on top of her. He had a hold on both of her wrists in order to prevent any kind of reaction. The assassin was now stuck and in matter of body strength she knew she didn't stand a chance. Natasha had been pinned in between his legs. Barton was keeping his knees on the mattress with no part of his body touching hers, except for the hands on her wrists.

The redhead then decided to use the space between them to slide under his legs. She was fast and was able to hit his back with the knee. Clint felt the blow and loosened his grip allowing Natasha to release her wrists and invert the situation. Now she was on top. She punched him in the face and then did it again. Just when she was about to deliver a third punch, Barton managed to dodge it and the Russian ended up hitting the pillow. Clint then pulled her hair back in an attempt to stop her but something really strange happened. For a moment, he thought he had pulled too strongly and ripped all of her hair out, but soon he noticed that wasn't actually her hair.

Natasha had tried her best to prevent him from taking her wig off, but it was too late. Now he also knew she was a redhead.

She was a redhead? Barton couldn't believe his eyes. That woman had indeed lied about everything. The agent however couldn't help but think that if there was something missing for her to be the girl of his dream, now there wasn't any more. "You're an asshole." He mentally cursed himself. How could he still be thinking about her that way after all the lies and mainly after she had practically finished him?

Well, she hadn't finished him yet, but was about to. Natasha was getting tired of that whole situation. It was time for the grand finale. She suddenly shifted her position again. The agent was confused. Being on the bottom was unquestionably a worse position so why would she…? His mental question was interrupted by the sudden grip of Natasha's legs around his neck. And once again the inappropriate thoughts…This time, however, they didn't last long because in a matter of seconds, Clint could hardly breathe. Her legs were exerting a great amount of force around him. He tried to get rid of her thigh hold in vain. His struggle only seemed to make her tighten her grip. Now the little air Barton could inhale just wasn't enough.

Natasha wouldn't stop for nothing. She kept staring at a very red Clint. His hands on her thighs, once fighting hard, now were barely moving. That was it. She was going to kill him. The redhead was about to apply her last efforts to end him for once and for all and put him out of his agony when he looked at her. And she saw his eyes. They were not dark and attentive like they were moments before. No. Those were the same eyes she had seen for the first time at the gym. The same eyes that made her know he was a good man. And she couldn't kill a good man. "Damned eyes!" Natasha thought and finally released him. Clint fell on the ground gasping for air. He had been defeated. There was nothing he could do and…. The gun!

The gun! Natasha remembered and quickly turned to the night table next to the bed.

Clint reached his weapon at the exact same time as Natasha opened one of the drawers to get hers. Not even a quarter of a second had passed and the two were already pointing their guns to each other's heads. The agent was at one side of bed, still trying to catch his breath. Natasha was at the opposite one, with her red hair all messy and staring at her opponent.

They stood there, with the bed being the only obstacle between them. They were both waiting for the other one to make a move. But none of them did. For anybody who walked in just then, that scene wouldn't make any sense: a beat up, half naked couple pointing guns to each other's heads. Indeed, that didn't make any sense at all. What was going to happen next? Clint questioned. He would shoot her? A woman he simply had no idea who was? Or maybe she was going to shoot him. And then what? Run away leaving no trace? None of the two alternatives seemed to satisfy him so Barton decided to go with a third one:

"I'm a NSA agent and I'm here on a mission." he started "I have no idea who you are but I can guarantee that if you try something stupid you won't come out alive of this room." he finished.

Clint wasn't joking, maybe he had exaggerated a bit about the whole "you won't come out alive" but he meant it. After all he had a team and the NSA cavalry if he needed. Natasha knew he was telling the truth. This time she didn't have a choice. The redhead lowered her gun slowly and threw it at the ground.

"Good." he said "now put your hands behind your head."

Natasha obeyed smiling.

"What? You're gonna search me?" she asked ironically "because I can guarantee you I couldn't hide much under these." she was referring to her almost absence of clothes.

Barton remained serious, still with his gun at ready.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Now she was the one who became serious. Natasha didn't answer. Of course she was not going to answer. Clint rationalized. Whoever she was though, she was one of the best. He could tell by the way she fought. It didn't matter what he did, she would never tell him the truth.

So, that was it. Now Clint was supposed to act like the good agent he always was. He was supposed to contact Ryan and ask for an extraction team. He would explain the situation to his friend and the other agent would do everything Barton would tell him to do. The team would arrive in about an hour and arrest Natasha so he could go on with the mission…The mission! Clint had completely forgotten that there was no more mission. General Sullivan himself had cancelled the whole operation due to lack of information. It was too dangerous. If only there was a woman in his team who could double Mrs. Riley…It suddenly hit him. The idea was idiotic and way too risky but it could actually work.

"You're gonna help me." the agent said still having seconds thoughts regarding his new plan.

"What?" Natasha asked confused.

"As I told you I'm on a mission" he stated "and from now on so are you."

She wasn't following. A minute ago he was pointing a gun to her head and now he wanted her help? What the hell was going on?

"A mission?" the redhead started "and what exactly am I in this mission of yours?"

"You're my wife." he answered.

Natasha looked at him surprised. She finally brought her hands back from her head and took a deep breath. She had no choice.

"Well, judging by the noise we just made I don't think we'll have a hard time convincing people that we are a couple madly in love."

**Reviews?**


	11. The nightmare

Chapter 11:

"This is crazy, Barton. Even for you!" Ryan said over the phone.

"The mission remains the same." Clint reassured his friend.

"No, it doesn't. Or do you think Harris won't notice when two couples show up at the meeting?"

"That won't happen because the only ones there will be us. Look, you, Williams and Castro are gonna have to come up with something to prevent the real Rileys from getting there. I know you can do it. There's a reason why we're the best team in the entire NSA, right?" Barton said.

"What about her? Do you really think she will cooperate?" Ryan asked still a little skeptical.

"She will have to cooperate. She knows she has no choice."

"I don't know, man. It's all very risky. You don't even know who that woman is…And, by the way, how did you meet her again? Didn't you suppose to be 100% focused on the mission?" the other agent accused.

"Ryan, I need you with me in this one, ok?" Barton started avoiding his friend's question "we won't have another shot and you know it. It's now or never and I just have to know if I can count on you."

For a moment there was nothing but silence.

"You know you can always count on me." Ryan finally stated.

"Good. Keep me posted then." Clint said.

"Yeah, you too. And Barton…good luck."

"Thanks." Barton hung up.

Clint put his cell over the bed and stared at Natasha. She was sitting in a chair next to the night table. He still had her at his gun aim. Barton had already gone through her stuff in order to discover something about that woman. The agent did find several passports and IDs but he knew all of those were fake. He would probably die without knowing who she really was.

"Your plan is pathetic." Natasha broke the silence between them "what makes you think that that person we're supposed to meet doesn't know the Rileys already?"

"The CIA has Intel that they have only spoken by the phone." Barton wasn't about to give her many details about the mission.

"The CIA? Well, that's comforting." she mocked.

"Look, miss whatever your name is, I'm sorry if you don't like my plan, but you still have to follow my orders to the letter if you don't want the NSA in your ass." he threatened.

"It was there, wasn't it?" Natasha asked ignoring what the agent had just said.

Clint gave her a confused look.

"That you learned archery…it was in the NSA, right? she explained.

The agent didn't know how to respond to that at first but then figured what the hell. She knew a lot about him already, that little detail wouldn't matter.

"Yes." he simply stated.

Natasha then put her best innocent look on:

"Was there anything true in what you told me?" sometimes she loved playing the victim.

"Well, I guess I could ask you the same thing." he said not in the mood for her little games.

The redhead smiled slightly at his words. For her, his lies didn't mean anything. She was angry with herself for not being able to read him better, but that was about it. For him, on the other hand, the whole situation seemed to be having a different effect. He really seemed disappointed.

"Ok." Natasha started "I think you should go back to your room now. I have to get ready for my impending death tomorrow night. So, if you excuse me…" she said as she walked to the door.

Clint didn't follow her though. Instead he burst out laughing. The redhead looked at him annoyed:

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Do you really think I'm gonna leave you here alone?" the agent managed to say among laughter.

"Where could I possibly go? By now, I know your little friends already have my room number and probably my physical description…so even if I did try to run away I wouldn't go far."

Barton stopped laughing for a moment and went to the door. Natasha had already opened it and was impatiently waiting for him to leave. So, he grabbed the doorknob and closed it again. He then turned to face her:

"We are a couple now, remember? And as a couple, we share a bedroom."

"You're kidding right?" the spy was in disbelief.

"Nope. And as a matter of fact, I took the liberty to call room service and ask them to bring my things over here."

Natasha's jaw dropped opened.

"Besides…" Clint continued "I've always wanted to stay at the presidential suite."

* * *

Barton had just finished unpacking. Now all of his clothes were inside the closet with Natasha's. He even placed his toothbrush next to hers. As far as everybody was concerned, they were a couple in love.

Natasha was beyond furious by now and knowing she couldn't do anything about it only made things worse. The redhead, however, didn't plan on letting her frustration show. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom's mirror again. She sighed. There was no other choice. She would have to put up with that guy for at least one more night. Before leaving the bathroom, however, Natasha glanced at her blonde wig on the counter and decided that if there was any bright side to that whole situation she found herself in that was it: she didn't have to wear that thing anymore…it itched.

Clint was finishing setting an improvised bed on the floor when Natasha stepped out of the bathroom. She was wearing an incredibly short red nightgown that matched perfectly with her natural hair. The agent couldn't help but think she was doing that on purpose. The assassin then walked towards the makeshift bed and looked at Barton:

"And you're also gonna make me sleep on the floor."

That wouldn't be a bad idea at all. Clint thought. After all, she had fooled him this whole time and deserved, at least, a night on that hard cold floor.

"You can have the bed." he said instead.

Natasha laughed and kept staring at him.

"You're an idiot." she then headed to her king-size bed.

She was right. He was an idiot. For some stupid reason that Barton didn't want to admit not even to himself, he just couldn't let her spend the night on a hotel room's floor. The agent finally went to the light switch and turned it off. He then headed back to his newest "bed" and tried to get as comfortable as possible. Silence broke into the bedroom. For a moment, Clint wondered about a hypothetical scenario where he was still John Riley and she was Jennifer Brighton. The room probably wouldn't be so quiet…

"You don't snore, do you?" Natasha interrupted his trail of thoughts.

"I don't know." he answered honestly.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asked again.

"Well..." he started "it has been a long time since I slept with someone so…"

There was silence again but it was quickly filled:

"I see. So you're that kind of guy." she concluded.

Barton didn't follow.

"What kind of guy?" he questioned.

"The kind that leaves in the middle of the night." Natasha simply stated.

And she was right. Since he got to the NSA, Clint had been too busy for a serious relationship so most of the girls he had slept with in the past couple of years were a one night stand.

"What difference does that make?" he wanted to know where that was going.

"It doesn't make any, actually. It's just…" she trailed off "you didn't seem like that…I mean, back at the bar, at the restaurant...the beach…well, but now I'm pretty sure you're not what you seemed to be." she finished.

Clint decided he wouldn't feel guilty for pretending to be someone he was not. That woman had done the exact same thing. He had nothing to apologize for:

"You're not what you seemed to be either darling. Far from it, actually. So I guess that makes us even. Now if you could just shut up and go to sleep…We'll have a busy day tomorrow." he said.

Silence came upon the room once again but it was short-lived because Natasha simply wasn't sleepy.

"What's your real name?" she asked curious.

Clint sighed and turned around to face the bathroom's door. His bed was in front of her enormous one. She hated being ignored.

"Oh, come on! You're a NSA agent! If I wanna know your name, I know exactly where to look!"

"Good! So knock yourself out!" he replied.

"Do you really think it changes anything or you're just trying to keep the mystery?" she mocked.

"Fine. So what's your name then?" he dared "if you don't think that changes anything I'm sure you won't mind telling me."

But she did mind.

"My case is different." Natasha said in a serious tone.

"Right! And, by the way, I forgot to ask: what are you exactly? A hitman? Work for some criminal organization?" he was raising his voice.

She remained quiet.

"No, wait a minute! It's none of that." he rationalized and then continued:

"You're trying to do justice with your own hands." he guessed.

"Your sister. She didn't die in an accident, did she? She was murdered and now you seek for revenge. But you couldn't get inside that world without becoming one of the bad guys." he finally concluded. That made perfect sense.

Clint had stood up and was now facing Natasha. She had listened to his assumptions about her past in silence.

"Am I right?" he asked.

The redhead smiled and simply stated:

"I'm an only child."

He should've known. That woman had lied about everything in her life. He was stupid to think she had told the truth about her family just like he had.

"Forget it." Clint said defeated and got back to the floor.

None of them spoke anymore. The only sound that could be heard now was the ocean clashing against the rocks on the shore. Natasha inhaled deeply. He was good. Somehow he had managed to see through the walls she had so carefully built over the years. The walls that protected her true emotions. The redhead cursed herself mentally for mentioning Mila back at the beach and promised herself to never do it again. For all it was worth, Natasha Romanoff would remain an only child until the day she died. She took a deep breath and settled herself in the bed. It was time to sleep.

* * *

Clint woke up abruptly with noises coming from Natasha's bed. He slowly stood up only to see the woman in front of him desperately fighting against something invisible. It was a nightmare. She was letting out sounds of pain, but at the same time it was possible to notice that she was trying to fight back whatever was hurting her. Barton just stood there for a moment, watching the scene. He had no idea what to do. Suddenly she stopped. It was like she had been defeated. The agent then took the opportunity and approached the bed. Natasha was completely still now. Clint waited a few more seconds and just when he was getting ready to get up and return to his bed, something caught his attention. A tear rolled down her face. And then another one. And another one. She was crying in her sleep. And it was a cry of pain, of loss. He closed his eyes and tried to fight the urge to comfort her…in vain.

Clint delicately touched her face and wiped the tears away, making sure she was still asleep. After a few minutes, Natasha had already calmed herself down but something still held him there. He looked at her red locks and smiled at the irony. Of course she had to be a redhead. Instinctively, his hands reached for her and he saw himself stroking the hair of that woman that fascinated him so much.

"My name is Clint Barton." he whispered, secretly wishing she had heard him.

Barton stood beside her a little longer and when he noticed she had fallen asleep into a dreamless night he got up and finally returned to his bed. It was definitely time to sleep.


	12. The pool

**Hi everyone! I know it took me longer than usual to post this but here you have it:**

Chapter 12:

Natasha opened her eyes slowly. The rays of the sun were already trying to break through the window. She looked at the clock on the night table next to her bed: 9:30. The redhead then decided that she needed to sleep a little more, after all last night had been awful. For a moment, the Russian assassin hoped that everything had been only a terrible nightmare, that John Riley was still John Riley and that she was going to be his date at the Conference. But, if hope sprung eternal, then maybe its eternity wasn't very reliable.

"Thank God you finally woke up!" Clint said exiting the bathroom. "I woke up more than an hour ago and was about to call you." he concluded.

Natasha turned around and now she had her back facing him instead.

"I don't recall asking what time you woke up." Natasha was in a bad mood.

"But you should." the agent replied "for a spy or whatever the hell you are, you're a very heavy sleeper."

"And what's wrong with that?" the redhead asked "are you planning to kill me in my sleep?" she asked again.

Clint just smiled but not at the question per say but at the irony. After all, last night while she slept he had done exactly the opposite.

"I told you I need your help" Barton said "so, killing you is not an option… yet."

"Yet?" Natasha looked at him.

He laughed. Clint knew, however, that he simply would never be able to kill her. Ever. She didn't have to know that though.

"You can take a shower now." the agent kind of ordered "at 10 o'clock we're leaving."

Natasha didn't move.

"And what are you now? My mother?" she began "because if I remember correctly, you're supposed to be my husband." she finished.

The agent, who was going through one of the drawers, didn't pay much attention to her and she hated being ignored.

"Let me tell you something real about me then: nobody tells me what to do let alone when to do it!" now she really finished.

Clint stopped what he was doing and turned to face her.

"Ok. So now let me tell you something" he started calmly "you are going to get up, take a shower, put a pretty outfit and a smile on that face of yours because at 10:00 we are going downstairs." Barton said it slowly to make sure she'd understand every word.

Natasha gave him a fake smile. God! How she wanted to kill him! And to think she had a chance…In that moment, the assassin swore that if she had another opportunity she wouldn't waste it.

"What's so important is gonna happen at ten?" the redhead asked in an angry tone.

"We have a meeting." Clint answered.

"And can I know with who?" another question from Natasha.

"Nope." the agent simply stated.

Natasha was about to lose her temper:

"Look, if this meeting is part of the mission, and I'm pretty sure it is, then don't you think you should at least tell me what it is all about? You know, since I'm a part of the whole thing now?" she was furious and fighting every urge to punch him.

"The only thing you need to know is that it's my mission." Barton started "and I'm the one who decides what and how we're gonna do to accomplish it." he finally concluded.

So that was it. She would have to settle for the total lack of information and submit to that man's every order. Ok. But, she certainly wouldn't make things easy for him.

Natasha had nothing more to say. She then finally got up, grabbed a towel and made her way towards the bathroom. Halfway, however, the assassin stopped in front of Clint and practically whispered in his ear:

"If you had been a nice husband, I would invite you to join me."

She entered the bathroom and closed the door.

* * *

Natasha hadn't taken more than ten minutes in the shower. Now, she was wrapped around a white towel staring at her own reflection in the mirror. How could she let things get to that point? The job was simple. Everything was planned out. All she had to do was to meet a lonely guy who was going to attend the conference, seduce him and then steal his card. Two days ago, she would have never imagined things would end up like that. Because things were, indeed, ended for her. Trying to locate Harris was now out of the question, not to mention she was being forced to participate in a NSA mission. When all of that ended, the only thing Natasha would have would be a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. But she was already in prison anyway. There, with a man who was not only preventing her from accomplishing her mission, but also obligating her to be a part of his.

The assassin took a deep breath. "You're better than this, Romanoff." She said still facing the mirror. And she was, way better than that. Natasha had faced extremely dangerous situations in her life, so admitting that she had been caught because of two bottles under a bed wasn't an easy task for her. Especially because none of that would have happened if it weren't for that man. The only man who ever made her feel…A knock on the door dragged her back from her thoughts.

"You're gonna take any longer in there?" Clint asked from the other side impatiently.

Natasha exhaled and finally unlocked the door.

"I don't know if you have noticed, but I'm a girl" she pointed the obvious "and us girls like to take a long time in the bathroom."

"And you're still like that?" the agent questioned referring to the towel wrapped around her body.

Natasha exited the bathroom and headed to the bed.

"Well, if that's the problem…" the redhead simply took off the towel and dropped it on the floor.

Barton, who had stayed by the bathroom's door watching her go, turned around almost immediately, not for her sake, but for his. It had been pretty hard seeing her with only bra and panties on last night so he couldn't afford seeing her naked.

"But you don't have to worry" Natasha said all naïve "I'll get dressed in a minute. I promise we won't be late."

Clint remained there facing the door, not knowing what to do.

"Yeah, just…hurry, ok?" he said not really worried about the time.

The redhead opened the closet.

"Where is this meeting going to take place?" she asked but didn't get a reply.

"I need to know what to wear!" the assassin exclaimed.

"By the pool." the agent gave her a short answer hoping that would make her put some clothes on as soon as possible.

"Ok. That gives me some options." Natasha said.

Clint exhaled. She was doing that on purpose: first she had implied he could join her in the shower and now this? The worst part was that it was actually working. Not that he was going to allow himself to be seduced by her, but all that was starting to affect him deeply.

"So, which one do you prefer?" Natasha asked holding a bikini in each hand "the pink or the black?"

That was too much.

"Pick any one!" he said without looking at her "I'll be outside."

Barton left and shut the door.

The redhead couldn't contain a laugh. If she was going to suffer, then so was he.

* * *

The area where the pools were located was enormous. Besides the pools, the place had restaurants, restrooms and a bar serving the guests. Natasha and Clint got there at ten sharp. The CIA had information that a meeting between Harris and Riley was going to take place before the ball, so the two could finally see each other face-to-face and discuss the last details of their transaction. Clint knew exactly where Harris would be which was good since he was the one who had to come up to the industrialist.

"Apparently he's not here yet." Barton said after searching for the other man.

"He?" Natasha asked "so this mission is about some guy?" she was trying to get some information.

The agent, however, simply ignored her.

"You do realize that in a few minutes this guy's gonna show up and I'll find out who he is, right?" the redhead mocked.

Clint just looked at her. Sometimes she could be a real pain in the ass.

"We're staying there." the agent pointed to a spot with a table and two chairs under a big beach umbrella.

They sat down and remained in silence. Natasha had chosen the pink bikini and over it, she was wearing a transparent little black dress with a hat and sunglasses.

A few more minutes went by and the guy was still nowhere to be seen. The redhead then decided that if she was going to wait, she would do it getting a tan. She opened the small bag she had taken with her and grabbed the sunblock. The assassin started to apply the product on her shoulders then her arms and neck. Natasha stopped her process to face Clint who was now staring at her.

"Now is the time when you offer to apply it on my back." she said trying to tease him.

The agent didn't have time to think about a clever comeback because just then a man in his 70s escorted by two bodyguards caught his attention.

"It's him." Clint stated to himself.

Natasha turned to look at what Clint was looking.

"Who? That fat guy over there?" she asked curiously.

"No." Barton answered "It's that guy with those two other guys with practically the double of my height." he said referring to Harris' bodyguards.

"God! Who would wear a suit in this heat?" Natasha was about to begin with her stupid comments when she decided to pay more attention to the man himself. The redhead couldn't believe her eyes. Out of all people in that hotel the mission was about…

"Jonathan Harris." she said in a whisper.

"What?" Clint didn't hear her.

Just then, Natasha remembered Clint was still there.

"So it's that guy with those bodyguards, huh?" she deflected "he's from the mob or something?"

Barton didn't answer. He was too busy observing if Harris would go to the place he should. And he did. Now it was Clint's turn. He took a deep breath and put his best John Riley face on. The agent then stood on his feet getting ready to go towards the industrialist. Just when he was about to start walking, Natasha got up and stood beside him.

"I'm going alone." he said.

"But I thought we were a couple!" the redhead said in disbelief.

"And we are" Clint agreed "but only when extremely necessary. You stay here."

"Here?" Natasha questioned "doing what?"

"Getting a tan." he answered and finally left.

The redhead fell on the chair again. She wouldn't have the chance to meet Jonathan Harris there, but at the ball she definitely would. In that moment, Natasha decided she would just enjoy the warm sun on her skin and the unexpected turn of events. Maybe things weren't exactly ended for her after all.

* * *

Clint was nervous. He had doubled people before but that was different. The mission had been aborted. What he was about to do went against every direct order from his superior. He could lose his job for that, even his life. If Harris suspected of anything at all, Barton was a dead man.

The famous industrialist was less than twenty feet away now. It was time to stop fearing and step into the scene.

"Mr. Harris?" Clint asked practically in front of the older man.

Almost immediately, however, the two bodyguards blocked his way, preventing Clint to say anything else.

"I'm John Riley." Barton carried on trying to spot Harris through the two very large men now in front of him.

Jonathan made a hand signal and ordered the bodyguards to step aside.

"We were supposed to meet here, right?" the agent asked ready to shake hands with the other man "because for a moment there, I thought I was wrong." Barton said referring to Harris' personal security.

"Don't worry about them." Harris finally shook Clint's hand "they're not the brightest of their kind."

The industrialist then stepped a little closer to Barton:

"You know, sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be simpler if I just hired trained monkeys." he said among laughter.

Clint looked at the two bodyguards who clearly had heard what Harris had just said. He despised that: rich guys who thought they were better than the rest of mankind.

"It would definitely be cheaper." the agent spoke and got another laugh out of Jonathan.

"I like you already!" the industrialist affirmed "I'm sorry for the delay…" there was a pause "…but something came up in the last minute."

"That's ok." Barton said "I just got here too."

"You're alone?" Harris asked in a more serious tone, maybe a little suspicious.

"You're right" Clint corrected "we just got here." he then turned to check if Natasha was still where he had left her.

"Mrs. Riley is right over there." the agent pointed to the beautiful blonde in a pink bikini. Clint had decided that it would be safer if she continued to wear the wig.

Jonathan wasn't able to see her well at the distance.

"And she doesn't want to meet me?" again a suspicious question.

"She prefers to meet you at the party tonight." Clint made up "she would hate if you saw her without a proper dress and all."

The industrialist laughed:

"Women."

Barton nodded in agreement.

"So, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Jonathan began "I gotta say that I imagined you different."

Clint smiled.

"Well, we had only spoken through the phone…I guess I'd be different than anything you have imagined."

"Yeah. It's just that I normally get these things right, you know?" Harris commented.

"I just hope I haven't let you down." Clint joked and put a smile on the other man's lips.

"Not at all." Jonathan said and led Barton to the table he was at.

"Please, take a sit." the industrialist offered and pointed to one of the chairs.

"Thanks." Clint sat down.

The two remained in silence for a few seconds before being interrupted by the arrival of a third man.

"John," Harris began "I want you to meet Alberich Eichelberger. He is my right-hand man and the best engineer I have…Let's just say that if it weren't for him I wouldn't be…so rich." the industrialist laughed but didn't mention specifically what Alberich did.

Clint laughed too and shook hands with the new comer. The agent remembered Eichelberger. Sullivan had mentioned him during the mission briefing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Barton said.

The engineer just nodded and then sat down on the chair next to Harris'. The three men stood quiet, observing each other, waiting for someone to start the conversation that had been the reason for the meeting in the first place.

Clint then decided to be the one to finally break the silence. If Harris was still suspecting of something, that would show him self-confidence.

"So," the agent started "I believe we still have some details to discuss."

Jonathan simply smiled at him:

"What's the hurry?" he asked "how about I order us something to drink first? Then we get to know each other better."

Maybe he shouldn't have been the one to break the silence. Maybe that would only raise Harris' suspicions. After all, hurry could be interpreted as an act of despair. Anyway now it was too late. The best thing to do was to come up with some plausible excuse.

"I'd love to." Barton spoke "but I gotta go back to my wife" he paused "we rarely spend any time together…outside of work." he tried to sound convincing.

"She can join us then!" Harris insisted.

"She doesn't drink." Clint gave another excuse.

The industrialist kept his gaze on Barton for a moment but finally gave up.

"Well," Jonathan said a little disappointed "I can't blame you though. If I had a wife like yours I wouldn't be far away for too long either." he concluded.

Clint smiled.

"She must be a handful!" Harris spoke again referring to Natasha's beauty.

"You have no idea." Clint said and the three men laughed.

"Now, about the details for tonight…there's not much to say, really. We meet on the rooftop at eleven sharp. Just like we had talked over the phone. I bring your money and you my…" he looked at Alberich "…my product." The industrialist finished.

Clint couldn't help a smile. So, it was really John Riley who was supposed to meet with Harris. For a moment, he regretted making Natasha a part of the mission. After all, he wouldn't need her. Well, she had been useful for his cover anyway. It would have been a lot harder to convince Harris without her.

"So, I guess we're all set then." Clint said already getting up.

"It was really a pleasure." Barton raised his hand to Harris.

"Likewise." Jonathan answered and shook the agent's hand.

Clint also shook hands with Alberich and then started walking away when a voice stopped him.

"John!" Harris called out from the table.

The agent turned around. That guy really didn't want him to leave.

"Just promise you'll let me buy you a drink tonight." Harris spoke.

"I promise." he said and began to walk again.

Jonathan Harris watched Barton's every step until he reached Natasha. The industrialist observed the couple for a few minutes.

"I had pictured them differently." Harris said to himself.

"I liked him." Alberich commented.

"I know." Jonathan agreed without taking his eyes off John Riley "and that's not good."

**REVIEWS? (that worked last time)**


	13. The krupnik

Chapter 13:

Clint barely had time to sit down on the chair next to Natasha before she started with the interrogatory:

"So, how did it go? Did he buy it? Who was that guy with him?" the redhead asked all at once.

The agent however just gazed at her for a moment and then directed his attention back to the pool.

"Ok then." she said already foreseeing that kind of reaction from him.

Natasha decided that the best thing left to do was to appreciate the beautiful view before her since she wasn't about to get any answers. But, after a few seconds, she was already done with observing.

"He's suspecting of something I can tell." the assassin broke the silence "especially of us being a couple."

Barton preferred to ignore her observations and just let her keep talking to herself.

"I'd definitely suspect of a man who barely touches his wife…" Natasha began to tease him "especially if the wife is me."

The agent laughed at that and finally spoke:

"Or maybe I'm more of a discreet kind of guy who prefers to do that sort of thing in a more private place." he concluded.

"Yeah. Maybe." the redhead said and approached him just enough to whisper something in his ear "…or maybe Harris will interpret your discretion as… something else." Natasha then backed away and let him take his own conclusions about what she had just said.

Clint smiled:

"I couldn't care less about what you think of me."

"I'm pretty sure of that" the assassin started "but I'm also pretty sure that you care a lot about what he thinks of you."

The agent didn't answer and allowed her to continue:

"Look, for what I understand, your cover depends directly on how convincing we are as a couple, right? And I gotta say that until now… you have sucked." the redhead said with honesty "I don't expect you to rip my bikini out with your teeth or anything like that, but you could show a little more… affection towards me." she finally said.

Barton remained in silence. She was right though. How could he convince Jonathan Harris that he was the real John Riley if he couldn't even pretend to be in love with his own wife? Clint gazed at where the industrialist was sitting and noticed that he had been observing him and Natasha. What was he supposed to do? Kiss her? No, maybe he wouldn't have to go that far. Hold her hand or something of the sort? The agent then directed his attention back to Natasha who was now facing him as if she was waiting for him to make a move.

"I'm gonna go for a swim." he stated and made his way to the closest pool.

"Idiot." Natasha thought and decided that she needed a drink.

* * *

The bar by the pool was just as good as or even better than the bar from the hotel. Besides the classic drinks, there were several ones that Natasha had never even heard of. After five minutes analyzing her options, the redhead finally made a decision. When she was about to order, however, something stopped her.

"Mrs. Riley!" a male voice called her.

It took her a few seconds to remember that she was Mrs. Riley, at least since last night she was. The assassin turned to face whoever had spoken.

"Mrs. Riley." the voice repeated "Jonathan Harris." he introduced himself and reached out for her hand.

That was too good to be true. Jonathan Harris in the flesh right there in front of her. And she was alone!

"Of course!" she said still surprised "it's a pleasure to meet you." Natasha shook his hand.

"Sorry I didn't go there to meet you earlier, it's just that..."

"Don't worry." the industrialist cut her off "your husband explained it to me."

"Oh! Well," Natasha started without a clue about what was Clint's excuse "anyway I'd like to apologize, Mr. Harris. You must've thought that was very rude of me."

"Not at all!" Jonathan exclaimed and sat down next to Natasha "but I'll start think you're rude if you keep calling me Mr. Harris."

The assassin laughed.

"I'm sorry! Jonathan."

The industrialist also laughed.

"I must say that this is the last place I expected to find you." Jonathan pointed out.

"And why's that?" Natasha questioned "A girl can't drink?"

He smiled:

"No, it's not it…it's just that your husband…never mind."

"So what are we having?" Harris asked already changing the subject.

"Actually, I was just about to order when you showed up." she took the menu and pointed to one of the drinks "I was thinking of this one. I've never tried it."

Jonathan read the name of the beverage but focused his attention on its price.

"And you're gonna risk spending all that money on something you have never tried before?" the industrialist asked "it could be the most hideous drink in the world."

Natasha smiled:

"Or the best thing I've ever had in my life."

Harris couldn't help a grin. That woman was growing on him by the second.

"Two shots of Krupnik" the industrialist finally said to the bartender "one for me and another for this beautiful lady on my right."

The assassin pretended to be embarrassed by the compliment:

"Thank you. You shouldn't have."

"Well, you convinced me to give that drink a try" Harris spoke "and if you're right about that being the best thing you've ever had then I wanna be the man who had paid for it."

The redhead smiled broadly and decided that she liked him.

"All right then." she said "but I'd like to remind you that we're taking a big risk here because it could also be the most hideous thing in the world, right?" Natasha got a loud laugh out of Harris.

"I like you." he simply stated.

The assassin didn't have time to say anything else because as she was about to, two glasses were placed before them.

"Now we're finally gonna find out which one of us was right." Jonathan said grabbing both glasses and handing one to Natasha.

"I guess so." the redhead took her drink "together?" she suggested and Harris nodded in consent.

The two then almost simultaneously took a long sip of the krupnik.

"Ok." Natasha spoke first "it's not the best thing I've had in my life."

"And definitely not the most hideous drink in the planet." Jonathan completed.

"Well, I guess none of us was right after all." the redhead said.

They both laughed for a moment and the assassin wished Harris was different. It would be a lot easier to accomplish her mission if he was an asshole.

"What did you see in that guy anyway?" the industrialist asked out of the blue.

That was unexpected. Even to her. Natasha was speechless before that man's boldness. Just when she was about to answer, a voice interrupted:

"I see you've already met Mr. Harris, honey." Clint said approaching them.

"Oh! Honey!" the redhead interjected "he was making me company while you were in the pool and…"

"Well, I'm here now." Barton cut her off.

"Yeah. I can see that." the assassin said "so, why don't you join us?" she invited "Jonathan was just telling me about the time when he…"

"No." Harris interrupted her "I'm pretty sure Mr. Riley is not interested in an old man's stories." he got up "nor in sharing the company of his wife with another guy." the industrialist said and paid for the drinks.

"Especially when his wife looks like you." Harris took her hand and kissed it.

Clint remained serious the whole time, standing beside where Natasha was sitting.

"You are a very lucky man, Mr. Riley." Jonathan now was facing Barton "I hope you know that."

"I do, Mr. Harris. Don't worry." Clint stated still very serious.

The industrialist approached the agent and said in a tone that only he could hear:

"I think you were wrong about her not drinking." Harris practically whispered "perhaps you should pay more attention."

Clint said nothing. Even though he knew all that just made Jonathan Harris even more suspicious, Barton couldn't care. He was too busy fighting the urge of punching that man right in the face to knock him out for good.

"See you tonight then." Jonathan said and finally walked towards the bar's exit.

Clint took a deep breath. At the very least, by the end of the night, that man would be behind bars.

"I liked him." Natasha stated.

Barton laughed. "Of course you did" he thought and then sat on the stool previously occupied by Harris.

The redhead then took another sip of her beverage.

"What were you gonna say?" Clint asked.

"What?" Natasha didn't understand.

"When he asked about what you saw in me" Barton explained "what were you gonna say?"

The assassin smiled.

"What was I gonna say?" she repeated the question in a sexy tone and got closer to him "well, you know…" now she had her lips practically touching his ear "I was gonna say that I have a thing for guys who lie about their names and try to kill me in bathrooms." Natasha got up abruptly and left.

The agent laughed and drank the rest of Harris' drink. Maybe it would be easier to put up with that woman with a little bit of alcohol running through his veins.

* * *

6:30 pm: International Airport, Bahia.

"We were lucky to be in that earlier flight." John Riley said walking towards the exit doors.

"What do you think the NSA wanted with us?" he asked.

"I don't care!" Elizabeth Riley answered as she was already getting into the cab "the only thing I care about is that in less than five hours, we got business to do." she said and shut the car's door.


	14. The blackeye

**Hi guys! Just in case you haven't noticed, I just posted chapter 13 two minutes ago, so if you haven't read that one yet, go back! And I think I deserve many reviews for being so nice and posting two chapters at once, right? What do you think?**

Chapter 14:

Clint looked at his watch again. It was probably the twentieth time he stared at the minutes passing and the bathroom door just wouldn't open. The ball was about to begin and Barton liked being punctual. He had knocked more than five times already, trying to rush her, but Natasha didn't seem to care about his impatience. Ok. A little delay was expected, but two hours locked in there was way too much! For a moment, Clint even considered the possibility of an escape but ruled that out almost immediately. The bathroom had only a very small window, so where could she have escaped through? The toilet? He just knew she was doing that on purpose. Barton exhaled. He would have to wait. The agent had gotten ready in less than twenty minutes. The suit he had taken was one of the few he had, the one he only wore in special occasions. It was black, simple. But it was quite nice. The shoes and the shirt were also dark, but in a shade of grey. Clint had decided that he wouldn't be wearing a tie though. That thing around his neck always seemed to suffocate him. He stared at the mirror. If it weren't for the bruise below his left eye, he could pass for the perfect millionaire industrialist. The agent had even tried to hide it with makeup but he wasn't particularly good at that kind of stuff. Barton hated admitting, but Natasha had a hell of a right hook. He sat on the bed and looked at his watch for the last time, because as soon as it announced eight o'clock, the door finally opened. Clint stood up, ready to bawl her out for the delay, but the words died before reaching his lips. Even after all she had done, that woman still held the power to surprise him with her fascinating beauty. Barton tried not to look as astonished as he in fact was, but he wasn't that good of a liar. He was literally speechless; hypnotized by that vision in gold.

Natasha laughed at the agent's reaction.

"Just try not to drool, ok?" she said while putting on her earrings.

Her words took Clint out of the bewilderment state he was in.

"What?" he asked still absorbed.

The spy laughed again and rolled her eyes. She was wearing a golden long dress that accentuated her curves. Her back was fully showing. The fabric only reappeared a little below the lumbar area. The makeup, also in shades of gold and brown, made her eyes look greener and her lips redder. Natasha had chosen simple earrings that went perfect with her outfit. The shoes were very high and also matched the dress.

"You look beautiful." Clint wasn't able to control himself.

For a second, she felt sorry for him. Men were so easy!

"You, on the other hand, look awful with that thing on your face!" she said referring to the bruise on Clint's eye.

"Well, I don't know if you remember, but this is your fault." he pointed out.

Of course she remembered it! And even though that wasn't helping their case at all, Natasha would do all over again in a heartbeat.

"Stay here." she ordered and headed to the bathroom again.

Barton looked at her confused, but obeyed all the same.

After a few minutes going through her stuff, the spy finally found what she was looking for. She then went back to the room carrying her makeup kit along with her. When the agent saw what she had in her hands, he sighed:

"Look, I've already tried to cover it but it's impossible!"

Natasha just smiled at him:

"Your mistake, honey, is to send a man to do a woman's job."

"Sit." she ordered again.

And again he complied. Clint sat on the edge of the bed without much faith she could do something better than what he had already done. Natasha then grabbed her foundation and applied a little on her fingertips. Next, the redhead reached her hand to the bruise and delicately started to spread the product on the needed area. She leaned forward a little to better see what she was doing. Now, their faces were just millimeters away from each other's. Just like there was no other option, Clint directed his gaze to Natasha's attentive eyes, those green eyes that made his heart skip a beat every time he looked at them. That was, hands down, the hardest mission he had ever been on. Not the part where he had to meet up with Harris pretending to be a guy that could show up anytime and kill him in a blink of an eye. No. His most arduous mission was to resist to that moment. To fight against every fiber of his being screaming for him to kiss those lips only an inch away from his. Those lips he had wanted to kiss since the first time he saw them.

Barton took a deep breath and backed away from Natasha a little. He feared that if he stayed too close to her for a second longer, he wouldn't be able to resist anymore. The redhead finished in less than a minute – which for Clint seemed like forever – and finally handed him a pocket mirror, so he could see the result.

It was great! It was still possible to notice a slight difference of colors between the foundation and his skin, but compared to before that was perfection.

"It's better." Clint said without complementing her too much.

Natasha frowned. But she knew that he would never admit that she had done an incredible job.

"So, shall we?" the agent finally stood up and reached out his hand to her.

The assassin looked at him from head to toe and decided that something was missing.

"Hang on a second." she went to the closet and started to look for something specific and then…"This one!"

"Put this on!" Natasha said with a black tie in her hand.

Now it was Clint who frowned. He hated wearing ties! They suffocated him, left him out of breath…just like she did sometimes. The agent smiled at the new irony.

"Hand it over!" he requested.

Natasha tossed the tie to him and he put it on without complaints.

"Yeah, now you look like a human…but barely!" she mocked.

"Great! Can we go now?" he asked.

The redhead nodded in consent. The two then headed to the door and before leaving, Barton offered his arm to Natasha who took it. They were no longer highly trained assassins ready to kill each other. Now they were Mr. and Mrs. Riley.

* * *

"Wow." that was the only interjection Natasha could muster at the magnitude of the place.

Clint was equally amazed by it. People from all around the globe would come and go, talk and drink the most expensive champagne the bar had to offer. In the center of the enormous room there was the dance floor, but the couples were still too shy or perhaps just not drunk enough.

When they finally walked in, Clint felt like he was at the end of the staircase back at the restaurant where he and Natasha had had lunch. Every man, accompanied or not, stared at her. There was no denial, that woman was unquestionably a show stopper. The first part of the plan had been a total success. They were already inside the ball. Clint's access card had worked perfectly and had allowed Natasha to get in too without any trouble. Now, they had to focus on the second part of the mission: locating Harris.

"Let's split up" Clint suggested "You'll go to the dance floor and I'll head to the bar."

"How convenient." she said.

Barton rolled his eyes and decided to ignore Natasha's last comment. He made his way to the bar. No sign of Harris so far. Clint sat on one of the few vacant stools and ordered that local drink he'd had the first night:

"Uma caipirinha, por favor."

The barman got surprised by the unusual request.

"It's rare to see someone of your…class ordering such a simple drink." the man said.

"Well, then I guess I am a simple man." the agent replied.

The barman smiled and went on to prepare the caipirinha. Clint was paying attention to every person around him. Jonathan Harris could show up at any moment now. Barton tried to find Natasha at the dance floor but the crowd was blocking his sight. He could only pray for her to be following the plan to the letter.

A couple more minutes and his drink was already in front of him. The agent took the glass and when was about to take a sip, his phone rang. "Ryan" he checked the caller I.D.

"Anything new?" Clint picked it up already asking.

"Nothing yet" the other answered "Castro's still at the airport waiting for them."

"Didn't they suppose to be here already?" Barton asked apprehensively.

"According to the Intel, they're arriving in less than an hour from now."

"Ok, then. Keep me posted." Clint said.

"You got it." Ryan hung up.

Barton only had time to put the phone back into his pocket when a familiar voice caught his attention:

"Enjoying your drink, Mr. Riley?"

Clint turned to face Jonathan Harris who was, as always, accompanied by his two bodyguards and Alberich.

"Very much, to be honest." the agent finally took a sip of his beverage and then asked if Harris had ever tried caipirinha before.

"I've heard it is very good, but I never had the opportunity myself." Jonathan said.

"Well," Clint straightened himself up in his chair "then I guess tonight is your lucky night." he signaled to the bartender and ordered two more shots.

"It's on me." Barton stated and offered Harris the seat next to his. The other man accepted the offer and settled himself on the stool. Just then, two glasses were placed right in front of them. Clint smiled and took both: one for him, one for Harris.

"I guarantee you'll like it." Barton said and drank a little of the cool drink.

Jonathan Harris watched him for a moment and only then took a sip himself.

"I couldn't help but notice that you're not wearing your wedding ring" he paused "just like you were not wearing it at the pool this morning."

Clint took another sip. He was suspicious and that was not good. Natasha had already mentioned that Harris wasn't buying their cover. Barton would need a plausible excuse…and fast.

"We don't wear them. My wife thinks it's a medieval and sexist tradition." he made up.

Harris looked at him again and smiled:

"It's a shame, isn't it?"

Clint didn't follow:

"What is?"

"Well, if I had a wife like yours I'd want the world to know she was mine." the industrialist said staring at Natasha that now could be seen through the crowd. She looked at the two men and waved. Jonathan waved back with a smile that Barton seemed to disapprove. The agent simply didn't like the way Harris looked at Natasha.

"So, is everything set for later?" Clint asked in an attempt to take the other man's eyes off his wif….off her.

The industrialist however didn't look away but answered his question:

"Yes. I still wanna do business with your company, Mr. Riley…" Harris stopped for a moment and took the rest of his drink "but there has been a small change of plans."

Barton froze at his last words but didn't show his worries.

"What do you mean?" the agent asked as calmly as he could.

Jonathan laughed and added:

"Don't worry, it's nothing really. But don't you think it's too risky for us to leave the party, out of the sudden and at the same time?" Harris asked but didn't give time for Barton to answer it.

"People could suspect that something's wrong. And we wouldn't want that, right John?" now he let the agent speak.

"What's the play, then?"

Harris smiled:

"Your wife."

Barton looked at the older man now not trying to hide his surprise.

"I don't get it." the agent said.

"Well, it's pretty simple, Riley. I want your wife to conduct the transaction in your place… you don't mind, right?" Jonathan spoke.

Of course he minded! The mission was already ridiculously dangerous before…imagine now! Clint couldn't trust that Natasha would follow his orders. Actually, he was pretty sure she wouldn't and worse, she would probably try to run away in the process. Shit! He had managed to get that far and he wasn't about to give up now. He just needed a new plan.

"Why would I?" Barton said.

Harris smiled at him broadly and got up. Before leaving, however, he placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

"As promised." and left.

Barton could tell Harris was suspecting that something was wrong. But he would have to deal with that later; the agent had bigger issues at the moment. He quickly got up and went to Natasha who was still close by the dance floor.

"So, everything good?" she asked.

"We need to talk." Clint answered.

"What happened?" now her question came in a more apprehensive tone.

"If I remember correctly, I still owe you a dance, right?" he asked already reaching out for her hand.

Even worried, Natasha couldn't help a smile as they made their way to the dance floor.

**I think a lot of people will be very happy with the upcoming chapter! I eagerly wait for more reviews!**


	15. The ball

**Hello guys! Remember that I mentioned that I was gonna make a lot of people happy with this chapter? Well, the moment has finally arrived! I hope you all like it:**

Chapter 15:

The walk to the center of the dance floor seemed endless and Natasha blamed it all on her anxiety. What had happened, after all? Had Harris figured everything out? Or was it Clint who had found out about her real intentions towards the industrialist? The assassin, however, kept it calm and when they finally reached the spot, they saw themselves standing there alone.

"You couldn't think of a better place for us to talk?" Natasha joked "there's no couple dancing." she pointed out.

The agent laughed a little and approached her:

"So, let's be the first." Clint stated and positioned his left hand on her waist pulling her closer to him.

The assassin then rested her right hand over his shoulder while her left one intertwined with the agent's right hand.

"Don't tell me you can dance too?" she asked.

"You'll see." Clint answered and gave a step ahead, inviting Natasha to begin the dance.

The song was a waltz. Slow and beautiful. A perfect fit for a ball like that one. And he definitely could dance. Natasha had allowed herself to be led by every move he would make, each one perfectly synchronized with the melody. The redhead couldn't help but notice that several guests were observing them swaying to the music by now. They must have been doing a hell of a job!

"I didn't know NSA agents took dance classes as part of their training." Natasha joked.

"We don't." Barton spoke without losing the rhythm "Five years ago, my parents decided to renew their wedding vows" he began "my mom practically forced me to dance with her at the party. The first waltz she'd dance with my dad and the second one with me" Clint laughed at the memory "I took a month of dance classes…four days a week." he finished.

Natasha just laughed at his confession. She had every reason not to believe in any of those words but somehow she knew he was being honest. And even though she didn't deserve the truth from that man, the redhead was grateful for it. She would be forever grateful that he had shared that little piece of memory with her.

"But I believe you brought me here for another reason other than showing me your incredible dancing skills, right?" the assassin decided to cut to the chase already. After all that was getting way too personal for her taste. "What happened?" she finally asked.

Clint looked at her and for a moment it was possible to notice something like sadness in his eyes. Sometimes he could swear that that woman in front of him was still Jennifer Brighton.

"Yeah. You're right." a more serious Barton said "we have a problem." he affirmed and spun Natasha round.

By now, practically all guests at the ball were watching the dancing couple. The redhead returned to Clint's arms with her body, if possible, even closer to his.

"What's the matter?" she used their proximity to whisper in his ear.

"It's about the meeting with Harris" the agent answered also whispering "apparently he really liked you."

Natasha backed away just enough to stare at Clint's eyes:

"What do you mean?" she questioned without understanding what he was trying to say.

"He wants you to go to the meeting. Alone."

The assassin wasn't able to hide her shock. She stopped abruptly and if it weren't for Barton's agility he certainly would've stepped on her foot.

"Hey," the agent brought her back to reality "he's watching us" Clint pointed with his head to where Jonathan Harris was. "Act naturally."

The redhead then noticed the industrialist and returned to keep up with Clint just like before. Well, if on one hand that was the best news she had received since she got there – after all she was at the Conference and about to be face-to-face with her mission- on the other hand that seemed too risky. Natasha would have to pass for a woman she literally didn't know anything about and conduct a transaction she had no information on.

"I can't do that." she stated "I have no idea what's going on here, I don't know what you want with Harris or what this meeting is all about…you didn't tell me anything about the mission so…"

"I know" Clint cut her off "and that's why I invited you to dance." he pulled her closer again in an attempt to calm her down.

"The NSA has been tracking Harris for a while now. But we don't have anything on him yet" Barton started "recently, however, the CIA came up with this information that he was buying a suspicious amount of uranium from another company and the possible seller would be…"

"John Riley!" Natasha figured it out.

"Exactly." the agent agreed and continued:

"After being able to intercept a call between Harris and Riley, the CIA found out that they were planning a meeting here at the Conference so they could do business under the radar."

"And how did you know they hadn't met yet?" the spy questioned.

"In the call, it gets pretty clear that they would only meet face-to-face a few hours before the ball." Clint explained.

"The meeting by pool." the redhead concluded "and where do I fit in all of this?" she asked curiously.

"After I was sent here to Brazil, the NSA found out that John Riley was just a messenger and that the person who really calls the shots in the company is his wife Elizabeth Anne Riley" Barton said "so we weren't sure of which one of them was supposed to meet with Harris tonight."

"So just in case…you had to find yourself a Mrs. Riley." Natasha spoke referring to herself.

"Yeah" Clint confirmed "without you the whole mission would've been aborted and Harris would've gotten away again."

The redhead stood in silence for a few minutes, processing the information she had just received.

"So, what's your play then?" the assassin laughed "trying to make me feel useful for helping the NSA to catch the bad guy and for saving hundreds of lives? Do you honestly think that that's gonna be enough to convince me to go to the meeting?" she dared.

"No." Clint simply stated "You are going because you don't have a choice."

The agent then leaned Natasha backwards making her head almost touch the ground and suddenly the music ended. Clint lifted her up again but held her there. Now, with his both hands around her waist.

"You were right." he said among intense applause.

"About what?" Natasha didn't follow.

"About Harris suspecting that we are a real couple." Barton answered.

"Really?" she asked sarcastically "and what do you plan to do about that?" she teased.

"I plan to prove he's wrong." the agent stated and kissed her.

The applauses grew louder and intensified as if the crowd was waiting for that to happen. The grand finale for the spectacle that couple had just provided.

Natasha didn't even have time to think because suddenly, Clint's lips were on hers and the only thing she could do was to let herself be kissed. She, the famous Black Widow, who had always bragged about being able to knock men off their feet with her kisses, had to admit that for this one time, she was to one to fall. The kiss was getting more intense by the second as the strength of Clint's arms around her. The redhead couldn't help but recall that afternoon on the beach. Natasha mentally thanked herself for not letting him kiss her that day. It would've been practically impossible trying to kill him if she had tasted those lips of his before. And just like that, it was over. Natasha opened her eyes slowly. She was still at the ball, some people were still applauding, that was still a mission and the kiss only happened to convince Harris. The redhead, however, only returned to reality completely when Clint's voice called out for her:

"Meet me at 10:50, close to the elevators that give access to the rooftop." the agent whispered in her ear and backed away from her.

"Where are you going?" Natasha asked still shaken by the kiss.

"I gotta get something in the way first." Barton said and disappeared among the guests.

**So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Please let me know! And another thing: I'd like to inform you guys that we're approaching the end of the story here, ok? Only more three chapters to go! So you haven't reviewed yet, now is the perfect time to do it! **

**P.S.: My sister, who's also the co-creator of this fanfiction, made a very cool drawing of one of the scenes of the story…we'll try to post a link to it next chapter and then you can go and check it out! It's really amazing; she managed to make them look like Scarlett and Jeremy! I think you're gonna love it so stay tuned for more! Tchau!**


	16. The meeting

Chapter 16:

11:00 p.m. There she was. Alone. Waiting. An annoyingly cold breeze blew on the rooftop. "She must be cold" Clint thought while observing her from a higher ground. He had been there before. After all, any good agent would've taken some time to analyze the hotel, especially where the mission would actually take place. Therefore the area wasn't new to him at all. Barton had chosen to position himself in a spot that had already called his attention the first time he was there. Besides providing a panoramic view, the place was reasonably hidden.

"You're an idiot, Barton." this time he said aloud.

How could he still be worried about her? The agent blamed the kiss. Clint couldn't remember the last time he had kissed lips like those. In actuality, he probably had never kissed lips like those before, so soft and…"You're an idiot, Barton." The agent repeated and decided to forget that stupid kiss for once and for all.

11:03 p.m. "Where the hell is Harris?" the agent thought and adjusted the bow. He had had the idea right after the dance with Natasha and he knew that the object would've been exactly where he had found it for the first time: forgotten in a dark corner of an empty gym. Taking it hadn't been hard at all, especially at that hour. Any other agent wouldn't have to think twice before taking a gun, but Clint Barton wasn't like any other agent. And for some reason, that not even him could explain, that bow looked more attractive to him than any kind of weapon. It was less safe and usual, but Clint was happy with his choice. Barton had also taken three arrows along with him. He really hoped he wouldn't have to use them but just in case…A few more minutes and still no Harris. The agent then started to consider the possibility of a setup but decided that worrying about that now would only make things worse. He needed to stay calm and focused. Clint inhaled deeply.

The sound of the ocean was all he could hear and that beautiful woman down there, all he could see. Her dress moved with the wind, accentuating the curves of her body. The blonde wig was slightly disheveled, but it was the perfect frame for that perfect face. He could spend the whole eternity there. Just looking at her.

"Shit." And it was in that moment, in that half silence, under that half moon that he realized he was completely in love.

It didn't matter what she did, how many lies she told or how many times she tried to deceive him. Clint Barton was unquestionably in love with the Black Widow. And if he had convinced himself otherwise since he found out the truth about her, that moment only served to prove just how wrong he had been.

"Shit." The agent said again but maybe a little too loud this time because suddenly Natasha looked at him. She knew he would be watching her the whole time, but she didn't know from where exactly.

Clint was caught completely off guard by her gaze so he just smiled and waved. The redhead smiled back and kept staring at him. There was something different in her eyes. Something the agent hadn't seen before. Something like fear. For a moment, Clint wanted to go there. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that he would protect her from any harm. But that was something a man in love would do, not a NSA agent. And, as much as Clint hated to admit, he was now both. He couldn't do that though; jeopardize the entire mission only because she looked a little scared. Maybe he should say something then, in case things went wrong. Maybe he should…

"You're very punctual, Mrs. Riley." Jonathan said a few feet away from Natasha.

"Fuck." Clint lowered himself quickly, cursing for not noticing Harris' arrival. "So much for concentration." he thought.

"You, on the other hand…" Natasha spoke, turning to face the new comer. "I was freezing up here."

"I'm sorry for the delay" the industrialist apologized "but I'm here now." the man was now three feet away from the redhead. Along with him, there were one of his bodyguards and Alberich.

"I didn't know you needed an audience to make business." the assassin joked.

Jonathan laughed and pointed to his personal security:

"He's only here to guarantee everything goes…according to plan."

"And him?" Natasha said referring to the engineer.

"Alberich is gonna help me to be sure you're not fooling me." the industrialist replied.

"And you think I'd do that?" the redhead asked innocently.

The old man laughed again.

"I must confess that in many occasions I was certain you were doing exactly that" Harris continued "I liked you…I really did. But that husband of yours…"

"What about him?" the assassin asked trying to sound calmer than she really was.

"I don't know" Jonathan began "in the pool, watching you with him…I could swear you were making me for a fool" he smiled "I thought of killing you both right there."

Natasha was petrified. Had Harris figured everything out and now he was going to kill her?

"And what made you change your mind?" the redhead questioned, trying her best to hide the fear of her possible imminent death.

The industrialist looked at her before answering:

"That kiss" he stated "nobody could've faked that, trust me, I know people and I know when they're faking" Harris paused "and you were not."

Natasha smiled in relief.

"And what about my husband? Was he faking?" she joked. Harris laughed but answered in a serious tone:

"I never doubted, not even for one second, that your husband was in love with you" Harris then continued "the problem was you…at least until that kiss."

The assassin had to fight back a laugh. How could someone be so bad in analyzing people? Anyway, she was glad she was still alive.

"Well, I am convinced that you are a real couple. Now you only have to convince me that I made the right call when I decided to do business with you."

"Then I'm sorry to tell you that you've made a terrible choice." a female voice coming from where Harris had arrived called everyone's attention.

Clint was watching everything, but he could barely hear what they were saying. He would intervene if necessary, but up until that moment it all seemed fine. The agent was so focused that the vibration of his cell scared him. "Shit." He cursed and picked it up:

"Ryan, I can't talk right now I…"he started but was cut off.

"Clint! Listen!" a desperate Ryan began "it's about the Rileys. Apparently they managed, only God knows how, to catch an earlier flight. Not even the NSA knew about it. There was no John or Elizabeth Riley on the flight Castro was supposed to intercept" Ryan stopped to catch his breath "Clint, they can get there any minute now. You have to abort the mission!"

Ryan's last words hadn't even been registered by Clint's brain when he noticed a woman followed by a man, both in their 30s, joining the group on the rooftop. "What the fuck is that?" the agent thought and turned the cell off. He then grabbed one of the arrows and put it in position.

"Clint! Clint!" Ryan practically yelled on the other side of the line "Shit!" he then realized his friend had already hung up.

"Williams, Castro!" the agent called for his team "get ready guys, we're going in."

* * *

"And who the hell are you?" Harris asked rudely.

"Don't worry, Mr. Harris" the woman started "I believe there has been a misunderstanding."

"What are you talking about?" Jonathan asked again "and you still haven't answered my question." now Harris' bodyguard was pointing his gun to the couple.

"I think you're pointing that to the wrong people" she spoke "I am Elizabeth Anne Riley and this is my husband John Riley. I believe we have some business to do.

"What are you saying?" the industrialist looked confused "You can't be Mrs. Riley because this is Mrs. Riley" he pointed to Natasha "and I just talked to John Riley at the bar, a couple of hours ago."

Elizabeth smiled:

"And how can you be so sure the man you talked to was really John Riley or that woman is Mrs. Riley?"

Harris remained in silence. In fact, there was no evidence that Clint and Natasha were the real couple, let alone evidence that that woman was telling the truth.

"And how can I know that you are who you say you are?" the old man asked aware of the fact that his bodyguard still had that mysterious woman on his gun sight.

"Let me prove it to you, then." Elizabeth stated and signaled her husband, who quickly approached handed her a briefcase.

"Here it is." she took the object and held it to herself.

* * *

"How long until we get to the hotel?" Castro asked apprehensively.

"Fifteen minutes." Ryan answered and made a question:

"Did you call the backup team?"

"Yes, sir." Castro confirmed.

"I hope you don't try to play the hero this time, Barton." Ryan thought and wished the car that was driving them could fly.

* * *

"Do you really think this briefcase's gonna prove that you are the real Mrs. Riley?" Natasha finally decided to talk when she realized that she was the one on the gun's aim now.

"Don't tell me you have a briefcase as well?" Harris asked sarcastically, facing the whole situation as a very bad practical joke.

The redhead smiled:

"Of course I do." she then headed to a small structure a few meters away and took a practically identical briefcase from it. After coming back, the assassin realized everybody was looking at her.

"What?" she simply asked "everyone's got one nowadays…"

Clint was in position, ready to step in whenever needed. He watched Natasha going for the briefcase. An empty briefcase provided by the NSA to trick Harris."What are you doing?" the agent questioned mentally without knowing what she planned to do.

Jonathan Harris couldn't understand anything anymore. He was in front of two women claiming to be Elizabeth Riley and of two briefcases which could contain his precious uranium.

"I could ask my bodyguard to cut one of those in half, but I don't think that was going to work in this case." the industrialist joked, but without hiding his impatience with the whole situation.

"Or maybe you could simply ask us to open our briefcases so you could see with your own eyes which one of us is lying" Elizabeth suggested "what do you say?" she asked Natasha.

The redhead didn't know what to do at first. If she opposed, however, she would be practically turning herself in. She had no choice. All Natasha could do was to accept the other woman's suggestion and hope for something or someone to save her.

"Sure. Why not?" the assassin agreed secretly wishing for a certain NSA agent to make a move.

"I liked the idea" Jonathan said "and Alberich will help me to know who's lying." the industrialist looked at the engineer who nodded in consent.

"So, who wants to go first?" Harris asked.

"Why don't you start by order of arrival?" Elizabeth suggested again.

Natasha looked at the other woman. She wanted to kill her.

"That's a great idea." the redhead agreed.

In that moment even the ocean stood still. Jonathan gazed at his bodyguard and made sure he was still pointing his gun at Natasha. Then, he looked at Alberich as if giving him permission to check the containing of the first briefcase.

The engineer started to walk slowly towards Natasha. "What the hell?" Clint thought and aimed at the physicist.

Alberich was getting slower by each step he gave to the redhead, making the waiting even more unbearable. She kept an innocent smile on her lips and held the case with both hands, close to her body. When the engineer finally reached her and leaned to take the briefcase, the assassin delivered a blow on his head and then sprinted to the opposite direction where the group was. The bodyguard, who had been taken off guard, went after her and just when he had her at his sight again and was about to shoot, an arrow hit his chest, knocking him out almost immediately. Now it was Elizabeth who took her own gun and tried to shoot Natasha. The first bullet almost hit the target but she didn't have time to fire a second time, because just when she was about to, another arrow flew and hit her right shoulder, disabling her to continue.

There was only one arrow left and in the middle of the commotion, Clint only had eyes for Natasha and Harris. The redhead was heading to the exit door, a few more meters and she would be there. Harris, however, was going the opposite direction. With Elizabeth's briefcase in hands, he was about to reach the emergency staircase. The agent knew he couldn't aim at both and there was no time to think. Clint then exhaled and released his last arrow. In less than a second, Jonathan Harris was on the ground with an arrow stuck in his leg, screaming in pain. Barton quickly turned to the other side but all he could see was an open door and empty stairs. She was gone and Clint knew that she was gone forever.

"What part of "you have to abort the mission" you didn't get?" a familiar voice coming from a chopper that was now flying above the rooftop took Clint from his thoughts.

"Ryan!" the agent exclaimed "you missed all the fun!" he finished and got a laugh out of his friend.

"You're an idiot!" Ryan shouted from up high.

Clint laughed too and gazed at that open door one last time.

* * *

Packing didn't take more than two minutes. The agent went to the window and looked at the view once more. He'd definitely come back there. But without conferences, without Harris, without missions.

Just when he was about to zip his bag for good, Barton noticed that his conference card was still over the bed. "John Riley" the agent read the name on it and laughed. Who knew passing for someone else could be that hard? He decided then to take that card with him. It was a good souvenir after all. Clint unzipped the left compartment inside his bag to put it there but found something else instead. "A piece of paper?" the agent didn't recall that. He, however, took it and opened it:

_It was nice to meet you, agent Barton._

_p.s.: And you don't snore, just so you know._

Clint couldn't help a smile at the written words. "It was nice to meet you too…" he said to himself, knowing that he'd probably never be able to know her real name.


	17. Author's note

**Hi everyone! It's me again. Remember when I told you that my sister had made a drawing of one of the scenes of the story? In case you haven't noticed it is now the cover of the fanfiction, but since it is too small we decided to post a link where you can better visualize it. Go to my profile page and you will find the link there.**

**Hope you like it and she would love to know your opinions about it. She wants honesty. Thank you and stay tuned for the final chapter! Tchau.**

**P.S.: She's bugging the hell out of me to say it's just a layout. She plans to ink it very soon.**


	18. The end?

Chapter 17:

**Maryland, United States: NSA Interrogation Office:**

Jonathan Harris was facing the mirror on the opposite wall of the room. He had been taken there at the moment he had arrived in the U.S. The NSA would do whatever it could to keep him in prison for many years to come. It was only a matter of time. And the worst part was that they finally had enough evidence to prove his illegal deals in the black market. The industrialist sighed. He should've followed his instincts and killed that John Riley at the pool, when he saw him for the first time. How could he have been so stupid?

The real Riley couple had also been taken into custody and would probably have to face decades behind bars as well. Harris looked at the mirror one more time, but just as he did so, his attention was caught by a noise coming from the door. It opened slowly so General Sullivan and another agent could come into the room. They sat down on the vacant chairs, facing Jonathan.

"It's a pleasure to finally have you here, Mr. Harris." Sullivan said sarcastically, breaking the silence.

The industrialist laughed and replied:

"Took you longer than I expected."

Now it was Sullivan who gave a smile.

"We had some hitches along the years…and you didn't exactly make things easy for us, did you?"

"I had a good accountant, I suppose." Harris joked.

The room was again filled with silence until Sullivan decided to speak:

"What do you know about Mandarin?"

Harris was caught completely off guard. What did Mandarin have to do with him?

"Same as you, probably. Brilliant scientist, works mainly with energy generation…"

"Illegal energy generation. Mr. Harris" Sullivan cut him off "we have reasons to believe that Mandarin was interested in doing business with you."

Jonathan couldn't contain a laugh.

"I'm sorry, general. But I make weapons. Energy generation isn't exactly my department. Therefore, I have no idea what Mandarin could possibly want from my comp…" Harris stopped abruptly. He closed his eyes and laughed at the irony. It all made sense now.

"What's so funny?" Sullivan asked a little annoyed by the other man's behavior.

Jonathan then looked right into the general's eyes and explained everything:

"Three years ago, my company started to develop a new technology for nuclear energy storage. The goal was to increase the power of warheads. It was a total failure…" Harris paused for a second "until Alberich Eichelberger got into the program and made a discovery without precedent. You see, he found a way to use palladium as a primary source of energy. Five times more powerful with just a third of the costs…the project was still in its trial phase, but it is a viable option. If Mandarin learned about the program I can assure you he'd be very interested in meeting the engineer behind it all."

Sullivan kept staring at Jonathan the whole time. The industrialist wasn't lying, not this time. There was only one final question to be made:

"So, where can I find this Alberich?"

* * *

**Shanghai, China:**

"You, indeed, live up to your enviable reputation, Black Widow. And was worth every penny." Mandarin said handing a briefcase to Natasha. The spy took it and ordered Alberich to stay on the other's man side.

She still didn't understand why she had been hired to take Alberich instead of Jonathan Harris. When her mission was handed to her, she was positive that Harris would be the target. She was wrong. That physicist seemed more important to Mandarin than Harris would ever be. The spy was already regretting taking that mission in the first place though. Natasha had her rules: she did not get involved with her employers, let alone with the motives that took them to request her services. This time, however, the redhead had a bad feeling she just couldn't shake away.

"Why did you pay me to get that guy instead of Harris?" she asked, breaking her own protocol.

Mandarin looked at her a little surprised by her question:

"Well, I'm afraid that's above your paygrade." he simply said.

Natasha nodded in consent. She knew she had gone too far. She was just a mere hitman, hired to do the job and not to make questions. The spy then glanced at Alberich for the last time. The man looked petrified with the whole situation. She breathed deeply and turned around, heading to the exit door.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you." Mandarin stated.

Natasha didn't reply nor looked back. She just kept walking until she was far away from that man's sight.

Now that they were finally alone, Alberich decided to speak for the first time since he had gotten there:

"What are you going to do with me?" the physicist asked apprehensively.

Mandarin just smiled as if he was already expecting such question:

"I don't intend to cause you any harm, Mr. Eichelberger. That is, of course, if you help me."

Alberich stared at the other man's eyes, now fully aware of the reason he had been taken there.

"You can begin by telling me about your interesting research on palladium."

* * *

**NSA Headquarters, United States:**

Sweat was dripping from his face. And for every drop, Clint would hit a blow on the punching bag. He had lost track on time and no longer knew how long he had been there. His fists were throbbing and fatigue had practically already taken over his whole body, but somehow he kept going. All that physical pain was nothing compared to the pain of remembering. Remembering her.

The agent had been back for two weeks now and whenever he wasn't working, Clint was punching something at the gym. He had realized that boxing was a great mind escape. Now, he was sleeping at the Agency almost every night. Being alone at his apartment had become unbearable; there the memories were more frequent. Barton knew it was just a matter of time before he could forget about what happened in Brazil, but sometimes he doubted he would ever be able to.

That night in particular was being though. It didn't matter how strong his punches were or how long he stayed there, her face was printed inside his head. Her flawless skin, the green eyes, those soft lips, the red locks that fell perfectly without her trying…."Fuck!" Clint exclaimed and with that delivered his last punch on the bag, which almost fell on the ground due to the power of the blow. Why couldn't she just leave him alone?

The agent stood there in the middle of an empty gym, looking around. And suddenly he spotted it. There, at a hidden corner just as he had left it before going to Brazil. Since he had returned home, Clint hadn't even looked at that old bow, let alone used it. The agent knew that thing would only bring memories he was trying arduously to forget. Barton, however, missed it. That bow had been his companion for many years and practicing with it was one of his favorite things to do. The agent then walked slowly towards the object like it was a ticking bomb ready to explode at any second. He stared at it for a few moments before finally deciding to pick it up. With the bow already in hands, Clint instinctively closed his eyes and everything came back. It was like he was back to Brazil again, at the gym in the hotel with her in his arms. Her scent filled the room and he could even hear her voice. For a second, Barton considered returning the bow to its original place and never looking at it again. But he was sick of that. He was sick of trying to forget her and mainly, he was sick of being scared of doing things only because they could lead to memories. So, with that in mind, the agent took one of the arrows and got a fair distance from his usual target. He positioned himself and adjusted the object. It had been a while…Clint then exhaled slowly and when he was about to release the arrow, he saw himself on that rooftop again: Jonathan Harris was running desperately to one side and Natasha to the opposite. Maybe he should have aimed at her…The agent shook his head trying to get rid of all those thoughts. He looked at his target again and this time he shot.

"I had never seen you missed one before." Miguel said approaching the other man, with a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other.

Clint stared at the arrow pinned to the wall, an inch right to the target. He hadn't noticed the janitor's arrival.

"There's a first time for everything, I guess." the agent replied still not believing he had missed such an easy target.

"Maybe you're just tired" the janitor started "I noticed you've been sleeping here every night."

Clint had already taken his arrow back and decided not to look at Miguel. Something was telling him that if the janitor saw his eyes he would find out the real reason why Barton had missed that shot.

"I heard your last mission was a success" Miguel spoke again, changing the subject "I haven't had the chance to congratulate you yet."

This time, Clint looked at the Mexican and tried a smile:

"You don't have to congratulate me for that. I was just doing my job." the agent affirmed.

"I know that," Miguel agreed "but there's a bunch of people who just do their jobs and you're not one of them. You do more. You do better. And that's why I'd like to congratulate you."

Clint just smiled again. If only Miguel knew that he had disobeyed every order he had been given and had put the entire mission in risk over some girl, maybe he wouldn't say that.

"Then if it's for that…thank you." the agent said while putting the arrow back into the quiver.

"You're not gonna try again?" the janitor asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"What?" Barton didn't understand.

"Try to shoot again" Miguel said and pointed to the target "I'm sure you can do it if you try a second time."

The agent, who still held the arrow, looked at it for a moment, but put it in the case still.

"I think you'd be disappointed" Clint answered and started to get his things to leave "I'm done for today."

The Mexican stared at him for a while and spoke again:

"You know, sometimes we don't get it right the first time. Many of us, not even in the second. A few, not even in the third...or the fourth. Me, for example. I applied to this job four times and they refused every single one of them. It was only on my fifth attempt that I got it." Miguel paused for a moment in order to approach the younger man "I could've given up…a lot of people would've. There were though days….and not so though days too. There were times when the no felt so convincing that I almost believed a yes would be impossible…but I tried again. And the only certainty I have is that if I hadn't gotten it, I'd still be trying."

Clint had already left his bag aside and was now just listening to that man in front of him.

"This conversation is not about shooting an arrow anymore, is it?" the agent asked smiling.

The janitor smiled as well.

"I know that sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, we won't make it…but maybe the next try is the one when you'll finally hit it."

Clint just smiled at that old man's words.

"You should give a second try" the Mexican began "to whatever hurt you. You should try again." the janitor then finally took the bucket and the mop he had put on the ground.

"I was just leaving anyway. Just came by to say good night." the older man explained.

The agent took a few seconds to emerge from Miguel's last words.

"Good night, then." Clint smiled and got his attention back to his bag. The Mexican started to walk towards the exit of the gym when a voice called out for him:

"Miguel!" Barton exclaimed. The janitor turned around to face him.

"Thank you." the agent said and the other man nodded in return and kept walking until he had completely disappeared.

Clint found himself alone again but that wouldn't last for long.

"I knew I'd find you here." a male voice caught him completely off guard.

"You know, it's a mystery to me how you manage to sleep on that couch every night." the new comer pointed to the sofa that had been Clint's new bed.

"Force of habit, I guess." the agent replied a little suspicious of that man in black wearing an eyepatch.

"Well, if you came here to warn me about the problems that couch can cause to my back, I think I'll pass." Barton said with his bag in his right hand, ready to leave.

"I couldn't care less about your back problems, agent Barton. I'm here to offer you a job."

Clint laughed:

"And you would be?"

"Nick Fury." the other man answered "I'm the director of SHIELD, a top secret organization which you probably never heard about."

"You're right" the agent replied now walking away "I never heard of it."

"Then maybe you should hear me." Nick said and made Barton stop.

"Look, I appreciate the offer," the agent began "but, you see, I already have a job and…"

"You managed to impress a lot of people in your latest mission in Brazil." the director cut him off.

"How do you know that I …" Clint was cut off again.

"It doesn't matter how I know butWHAT I know." Fury stated.

"Ok. So what do you know?" Barton asked very annoyed by that man's audacity.

"Well, I know that you disobeyed direct orders from General Sullivan. And I know that you acted on your own, manipulating your team to help you without giving any explanation to your superiors." Nick stopped for a moment to be sure he had the other agent's full attention:

"But I also know that you accomplished the mission."

Clint said nothing.

"And that's exactly what SHIELD needs: someone who can accomplish the mission." the director handed a file to Barton.

"What's this?" the agent asked taking the papers.

"That is the mission we'd like you to accomplish. And I'm sure you'll be interested."

Clint started to flip the pages and a name caught his attention:

"Alberich Eichelberger."

"Jonathan Harris' personal engineer. I'm sure you already know him." Nick said and continued "apparently Alberich was more important than we initially thought. He has vital information for our Agency."

"So why haven't you gotten him yet?" Clint asked confused.

"Because he's disappeared." Nick answered only increasing the other agent's curiosity "after the mess you made in your meeting with Harris back in Brazil, Alberich simply vanished. Nobody has heard about him since. Not even his wife. He has been missing for two weeks now and we have reasons to believe he was kidnapped" Nick handed another file "by this woman."

Clint couldn't hide his surprise. The same green eyes, the same red hair. It was her.

"Natasha Romanoff." Barton read the name next to her picture.

"Russian assassin. Works alone… to whoever pays best. SHIELD has little Intel on her. The woman is practically a ghost," Fury explained "but we think you can help us with that."

"And why do you think that?" the agent asked.

"Because you shared a room with her, agent Barton."

Clint shook his head. How could he have let himself be deceived like that, and worse, how could he have fallen in love with an assassin? In that moment, all of his being regretted not killing her in that room or shooting an arrow through her chest on that rooftop. He had had so many opportunities, but let all of them slipped away. But not this time.

"So, what's my mission?" the agent asked in his game voice.

"Locating Romanoff and bringing Alberich back. Whatever it takes." Nick concluded.

Clint hesitated for a second. He knew what that meant. If it were necessary, he would have to kill her. And for the first time, Barton didn't mind. That woman was nothing but a cold blooded, cruel assassin who didn't deserve more than a painful death.

"I'm in." Clint finally spoke "But with one condition."

"And what's that?" Fury asked.

"That I get to use a bow and arrow."

"As long as you do your job, you can use a paper clip for all I care." Nick said.

They stared at each other for a minute while the silence filled the room.

"So, welcome to SHIELD, Robin Hood." Fury joked.

Clint smiled:

"Actually," the agent cleared his throat "I prefer Hawkeye."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**That's it guys! First I'd like to thank everybody who followed, favorited and reviewed this story. It means a lot to us to know that there are people out there actually taking their time to read this. We really, really appreciate the support and the feedback. And we also would like to ask those who have followed this and haven't yet reviewed to do so. We'd love to hear your opinions and thoughts. And, yes. We are planning a sequel to this fic but we want to know if you guys would like to see it happening, so if you do ,speak now or forever hold your peace. It has been a pleasure to write for you guys and we hope to continue soon. As usual: Até a próxima! And thanks again.**


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